


In The Stacks

by DeiStarr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Anal Sex, Angst, Dark, Death Eaters, Drama, Fluff, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, HP: EWE, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Epilogue Compliant, Oral Sex, Potions, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Romance, Slash, Students, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeiStarr/pseuds/DeiStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the library during their Eighth Year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have an accidental run-in that leads to clandestine meetings in the stacks. Will their stolen kisses turn into something more? And when a rumor saying Voldemort isn't really dead spreads, how will that change things? Started life as a PWP and turned into something more. WIP. Draco/Harry Slash, EWE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Stacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco have an accidental run-in that leads to clandestine meetings in the stacks. This chapter can be read alone as a PWP.

**Title:** In The Stacks

 **Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling owns it all, except the smutty goodness that is Drarry.

 **Summary:**  In the library during their Eighth Year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have an accidental run-in that leads to clandestine meetings in the stacks. Pretty much PWP. COMPLETE. Draco/Harry (Drarry)

 **Warnings:**  Language, oral sex, frotting. Slash. Male/male bonding of a less than innocent nature. Smut, glorious smut! Practically PWP.

 **A/N:** Wow, just a few weeks ago I'd never written a sex scene in my life, and now here I'm writing something that's very nearly PWP. (Not sure how much or how little of a plot there needs to be to determine whether it is or not.) How time does fly. Please review and tell me how I did! Both positive and negative comments welcome! Thank you,  **VenustusLovesJames**  for posting a (very hot) picture on her Drarry FB page that inspired this fic.

To see the (super hot) picture that inspired this fanfic, go to: www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=498474636872971&set=pb.391199857600450.-2207520000.1370031693.&type=3&theater

* * *

 

**In The Stacks**

* * *

 

_My heart's beating faster, I know what I'm after_

_I've been standing here my whole life_

_Everything I've seen twice, now it's time I realize_

_It's spinnin' back around now, on this road I'm crawling_

_Save me cause I'm falling, now I can't seem to breathe right_

_Runnin' – Adam Lambert_

* * *

_ _

* * *

Draco Malfoy entered the Hogwarts' library with his head held high, his hips swaying as he walked, the very air around him whispering, " _Yes, I am_  that _good_." He could feel the eyes on him as he sauntered through the aisles; the gazes of everyone who hated him, and of those who wanted him but wouldn't touch him for fear of being tainted. Of being found guilty by association. Sometimes those two groups were very distinct and separate; sometimes they blended into one cohesive whole mass of confused hormonal teenagers. Teenagers whose hormones screamed that they wanted to sleep with him but whose brains screamed back, " _Fucking Death Eater scum!_ "

That was fine. Let them want him and writhe with it. He was used to being wanted; and he'd quickly gotten used to being hated. Everyone kept their distance, whatever their designs on him were, and that suited him just fine. Harry Potter had spoken in his defense at his trial, and Professor – no,  _Headmistress_  McGonagall had specifically set wards that would alert her if anything happened to him, rendering him untouchable; safer by far within Hogwarts than he would be out of it.

He slipped into the section on Ancient Potions and began to browse. He found a promising-looking volume titled  _Moste Powerful and Magickal Brews_ and removed it from the shelf. He began thumbing through it as he walked, head down, not really minding where he was going.

"Oomph!" There was a terrific crash and Draco went down, and a warm, squirming body came down on top of him. His head jerked up in surprise as he fell, and a pair of soft lips connected with his. A jolt of electricity shot through him; Merlin, but those lips were soft, soft and warm and pliant and oh-so-kissable, and Merlin knew it had been far too long since he had last had a good snog. He bit back a groan, his eyes fluttering shut as he shuddered with pleasure. He'd never felt anything like it, and without thinking he nibbled on the lower lip that presented itself and felt the girl gasp. Without waiting for her to pull away he cupped the back of her head with his hand and slid his tongue into her mouth, feeling as much as hearing the moan that broke free from her, and she kissed him back; tongue hesitantly, inexpertly dancing with his own. Electricity burned through him like fire, his hands lightly dancing across her back and feeling small shocks run through his fingertips.

It was fire.

It was passion.

It was heaven.

He'd never had a snog like this, ever.

"Oi! Ferret! What the bloody hell are you doing?"

He growled in frustration, feeling a shudder run through the kiss from the girl at the sensation, and pulled away to glare at the Weasel for daring to interrupt him. Weasel looked horrified and sickened, and was aiming his wand at Draco's head. Granger stood still behind him with her know-it-all Mudblood – excuse me, _Muggleborn_  – mouth gaping open in a small "O". What reason on earth could they have for wanting to interrupt his snog?

A slight shock ran through him, and he wondered uneasily if he'd been making out with the Girl Weasel, if that was what had the Weasel's knickers in a knot. He glanced at the figure in his lap, only to have his blood run cold. It was not the Girl Weasel. It was not, in fact, a girl at all.

Straddling him, looking slightly dazed with glasses askew, black hair wild, lips red and swollen from Draco's kiss was Harry Potter.

With a horrified cry Draco tried to spring away, but he was still pinned underneath Potter, and he wondered then how he could have mistaken Potter's weight and build for a girl's. Not that Potter was particularly heavy; in fact for a boy he was surprisingly light. He was shorter than Draco, and slender, perhaps that was why. He was muscled and wiry; all hard planes and angles, nothing like the softness and curves that Draco was familiar with. Somehow that just made everything feel that much hotter.

But of course, none of this eliminated the horror that was the fact that he had just  _snogged Harry Potter_. In the middle of the library, no less.  _And enjoyed it, I might add_ , his brain supplied helpfully.

The Weasel was sputtering like he was having some kind of verbal seizure. His wand jiggled up and down in time with his incoherent, fragmented bursts of words and half-formed sentences.

Potter seemed to come back to himself. He flushed bright red and scrambled to his feet. "What the hell, Malfoy?" he demanded, trying to look furious but the way his voice squeaked sort of ruined the effect.

"What the hell, indeed, Potter," Draco sneered, recovering himself. "You want me so badly you would leap out on me unawares in the library?"

Potter's blush deepened, his scar standing out vividly on his forehead against the reddened skin. He had the presence of mind to look scandalised. "Now see here, Malfoy," he sputtered. "I wasn't-"

"No, I will  _not_  see here," Draco tilted his head back exposing his pale, slender throat. He couldn't help noticing the way Potter glanced at the expanse of skin, licking his lips with a pink tongue darting out in an unconscious gesture.  _Well, well,_  he thought.  _Looks like the Golden Boy enjoyed that a bit more than he ought to have done._  He serenely ignored the voice in his head that said that  _he_ ,  _himself_  had enjoyed it a bit more than he ought to have, and focused instead on that particular detail.  _If I play my cards right, Merlin knows what I could hold over him…_

Draco smiled; a very Slytherin smile. He leaned forward and delighted in the way Potter gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as the blond drew near. He pulled back and the reddish stain darkened once more over his face and neck.

"Get back, you – you!" bellowed the Weasel eloquently. He was still brandishing his wand like a sparkler, twirling it in a fit of hysteria.  _Well_ , thought Draco with amusement.  _Madam Pince is no doubt on her way._

Outwardly he rolled his eyes. "Weasel, as much as I enjoy degrading myself to sharpen my razor-wits against your dull ones, this does not concern you. Potter throwing himself at me and kissing me on the floor between the stacks is a matter between me and him."

"I did not-" Potter began, face still flaming.

"You evil, Death Eater slimeball!" raged Ron. "You- you  _attack_  Harry, then try to blame him; as if he would ever voluntarily  _touch_  the likes of you for anything-!"

"Granger, restrain your caveman, will you?" Draco looked bored.

Granger flushed but seemed to break out of the shocked trance she'd been in since witnessing the kiss. "Ron," she whispered. "Quiet before Madam Pince kicks you out of here!"

"Oh, so now you take orders from Malfoy, Hermione? Since when do you choose that ferret over your own boyfriend?" Ron purpled with rage, and did not quiet down in the slightest.

"Ron!" she huffed. "We were both shocked by- by what happened," she flushed. "But you need to calm down before you get us thrown out of the library!"

"I will  _not_  calm down-!"

" _Mr. Weasley_!" hissed Madam Pince, rounding the corner. "Out of my library – now!"

Weasel sputtered but she would brook no arguments. " _Now_ , Mr. Weasley."

Granger grabbed his elbow and began steering him away. She paused and turned back. "Harry-"

"In a minute, Granger; I'd like to talk to him." Malfoy smirked while Potter gaped at him, and Granger's eyes flicked worriedly between the two of them. Weasel made a gagging, choked sound in the back of his throat.

"Just go," Potter said, quickly, catching Madam Pince's eye. "I'll follow in a minute."

Granger looked like she wanted to say something, but she closed her mouth in a firm line and proceeded to tow the blustering Weasel out.

"Can I trust you gentlemen to behave?" Madam Pince frowned at them.

"Word of honour, Ma'am," smiled Draco. She sniffed, but turned and left them to their devices.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Potter's tone affected casual unconcernedness, but Draco noticed the way his voice shook ever so slightly on his name, the way he trembled lightly. He leaned in close and Potter sucked in his breath.

"You want me, Potter."

Potter's eyes went wide. "I do no-"

"You can't stop tasting me. Wanting my tongue back on yours. My hands on your body. It's written all over your face; how much you loved that." Draco felt a shiver run through him as he spoke the words. "A repeat can be arranged."

He pulled back and smirked. Potter's pupils were dilated, and as green eyes met grey his breath hitched. He licked his lips. "Why?" The words came out in a whisper, sounding like they had been forced through a half-closed throat. "What's in it for you?"

"Did it ever occur to you, Potter, that perhaps I enjoyed that, as well?" he purred. And he had; not that he would ever acknowledge it. This would purely be a ploy to humiliate and embarrass his rival. No more, no less.

_And if I happen to get another snog like that out of him in the process, well… that's nobody's business but mine._

Potter's eyes widened, and he gave a barely perceptible nod. "I - alright," he whispered. "When? Where?"

"Well, I was thinking after dinner," Draco drawled. "And as for where; this spot is perfect, wouldn't you agree?"

Potter glanced around, and he had to concede that the Slytherin had a point. In this little alcove, they were completely alone, hidden from the rest of the library. If Granger and the Weasel hadn't been standing so close they wouldn't have seen anything at all – and most likely didn't see the accident, initially. If they took a few steps back they would be completely hidden in the stacks on all sides. It was far enough back in the library that so long as they weren't shouting at the top of their lungs the way the Weasel had been, they'd likely remain unnoticed and uninterrupted.

"Alright," he agreed. He ran a shaking hand through his messy hair and gave a nervous laugh. "Alright," he repeated.

Draco smirked. "Till then, Potter," he whispered, leaning in close enough that the other boy could feel his breath, hot below his ear. He relished the way Potter shuddered, a gesture that had little to do with disgust, if the look of pleasure on his face was any indication.

He sauntered his way out of the library, carrying  _Moste Powerful and Magickal Brews_ with him as he went.

* * *

Draco was torn. Part of him was filled with glee; he would soon have blackmail material on the Golden Gryffindor, and on top of that he would be getting what promised to be an excellent snog. The other half of him wanted to take down the cameras he'd hidden and rush back to his room to hide. He wanted that snog; wanted it so badly he could taste it, so badly that he was filled with doubt regarding just how foolish this venture was. Not to mention that if he exposed Potter, he exposed himself – not that his reputation could really get any worse, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

On top of all that was the very confusing factor that Potter was a  _boy_ , and while Draco was used to being wanted by boys – he'd lived with Blaise Zabini for six years in the dungeons, after all – he was not used to wanting a boy in return. This little endeavour raised all sorts of uncomfortable questions about his sexuality that he preferred to deal with by ignoring them and hoping they went away.

It was just a fluke, he reassured himself. A one-off; trying it once and then never again. Just a snog.

Never mind the part of his brain that didn't like the idea of only getting to taste Potter once more.

He fidgeted, checking and adjusting the cameras' positioning and glancing around nervously. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, then groaned and pulled out a pocket mirror with which to correct the mussiness he'd just added to it. He shifted. Potter would be here soon, no doubt. They'd practically devoured one another with their eyes before he'd left the dining hall.

"Malfoy."

He whirled. Potter stood in the opening to the aisle, where they'd had their collision and kiss previously that day. His eyes were dark with  _want_ , and his face open with _need_. Draco's mouth was suddenly very, very dry.

"Potter," he tried to say with his usual carefree drawl that intoned that he had not, in fact been anticipating this all day; been waiting for it, desperate for it. It came out sounding hollow, needy, even to his ears.

Potter let out a low growl and plunged forward, closing the distance between them in a flash. He seized Draco's shoulders and mashed their lips together, groaning into the kiss. Draco gasped, and Potter's tongue was in his mouth, toying with his, flicking the tip and licking the ridge of his mouth.

The fire, the electricity from earlier was still there; in fact it was worse, perhaps because they'd been anticipating this all day. Draco moaned, and pushed back, giving as good as Potter did – better; he was the Ice Prince of Slytherin and was well-practiced in a way Potter obviously wasn't. Not that that detracted from the pleasure the brunet's kisses provided; in a way it increased it because he knew just how few people had had the privilege of seeing Potter reduced to this shaking mass of need that currently quivered in Draco's arms. If indeed any ever had affected him so strongly before.

Draco liked to think not.

They clutched one another, bodies pressed flush against each other as they kissed. Draco's hands traveled over Potter's back and chest and he reveled in the smooth planes beneath his hands, pressing just hard enough to elicit a response from the green-eyed boy who was currently gasping into the kiss and returning the gestures with enthusiasm.

He bit down on Potter's neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin by his pulse point. Potter bucked against him and swayed in his arms. Hardness brushed his thigh and he groaned aloud. Unconsciously he jutted his hips forwards, brushing against Potter again, straining for more of that delicious sensation.

 _Merlin,_ he thought wildly.  _Potter's turned me gay!_

Then he wasn't thinking, because Potter had the same idea and they were rubbing together, rutting against each other and Merlin, it was wonderful. Draco shivered against the  _length_  of him and let out a hoarse cry as he felt himself drawing close. Potter captured his lips in another kiss and in a blinding, half-crazed moment it was over, the two boys coming together as they frotted themselves to completion. It was probably the most brilliant orgasm of Draco's life.

They collapsed against the stacks, weak-kneed and gasping. Draco couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't believe what he'd just experienced.

He stared at Potter, happy to note that the boy looked just as dazed and spent as he felt.

" _Merlin_ ," he gasped. "That was bloody amazing!"

Draco wholeheartedly agreed. He closed his eyes, willing his heart to stop pounding so hard. His breathing was still ragged.

"We probably shouldn't leave together," he finally managed to say after he regained some of his composure and murmured a quick cleaning charm over them both.

Potter shook his head. "No, I suppose not. And thanks," he added, gesturing to the area that had just been magically cleaned.

"Don't worry about it." A pause. "You can leave first, if you want."

"In a minute." Potter chuckled. "I'm still trying to catch my breath."

Draco cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "So, same time tomorrow?"

Potter stared. "Fuck yes," he whispered.

* * *

Draco cursed himself as he took down the cameras. He hadn't taken a single picture; he'd gotten completely sidetracked, and forgotten the plan. On top of that not only had he made additional pans that ended any notion of this being a one-off, he had rutted against and orgasmed with a boy; not just any boy but Harry Bleeding Potter.

And he could not stop grinning.

This was bad; this was very bad.

Mentally, he slapped himself. "Get a grip, Draco." He shook his head.

Next time, he promised himself, he would be prepared. Next time he would not get so distracted. He would stick to the plan and would use the opportunity to successfully acquire blackmail material that would allow him to humiliate his rival. Today's little… accident would only serve to increase the trust the brunet would place in him during their next encounter.

Yes, that was it.

Draco was still in control.

* * *

They met again, many times, yet every time Draco lost control and couldn't contain himself. It would have been embarrassing had anyone else known about his plans for the brunet.

Finally, Draco realized something needed to be done. They could not go on the way they were.

The next time they met, Draco had a plan. He was  _ready_. But like even the most brilliant schemes are wont to do, his did not quite go as intended.

Potter launched himself at Draco like a wild thing again, but this time Draco was prepared. After a few moments of frenzied kisses, he grabbed Potter's hands and pinned them over his head, against the stacks. Potter whined and struggled against him for a moment, then stopped. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Draco shook his head. "Nothing. I just want to try something, that's all." He grinned, and stripped off his tie. Potter licked his lips and gave him the ghost of a smile. He didn't struggle as Draco bound his wrists behind his back. He trailed feathery kisses along Potter's neck, loosening the Gryffindor's tie as he went, and Potter keened.

He slid the tie off and used it to blindfold Potter. Potter stiffened, but he whispered, "Relax; let me take care of you," and felt the other boy comply.

This left him desperately aroused. How often had he ever had Potter at his mercy? True, once on the train at the start of sixth year; but never had Potter surrendered to him willingly. Never had Draco known how heady willing surrender could be. He kissed Potter, kissed him and slammed his body into the stacks, devouring the shorter boy's mouth with his own. Potter moaned and brushed against him, and Draco was seized by a sudden impulse.

He dropped to his knees, fumbling at the Gryffindor's trousers. He undid the buttons with shaking hands and slid the fly down, ignoring Potter's sharp intake of breath. He pulled down the other boy's trousers, followed by his pants. A small voice in the back of his mind screamed at him that this was it, what he'd been waiting for, so why didn't he hurry up and take some photos already? Potter was at his mercy.

Strangely, the thought only made him more aroused, and the sight of Potter's erection only furthered that still. The Boy Who Lived was well-hung, he'd give him that. Without thinking, his tongue darted out and licked the tip of Potter's cock. It tasted bitter, salty. Not unpleasant. The other boy bit back a cry, and suddenly Draco lunged forward, taking Potter into his mouth. Potter gasped and his knees buckled, but Draco held him steady and he leaned back against the stacks for support.

Draco ran his tongue along Potter's length and teased the slit, causing Potter to curse with abandon. He moved back and forth, sliding the length in and out of his mouth and working the base with his hand, hollowing his cheeks experimentally. Potter bucked, and cried, and strained at his bonds. Draco couldn't take his eyes off him.

His head thrown back, hair in disarray, blindfolded and begging, he was absolutely beautiful. Draco was mesmerized by the way he moved; the sounds he made. He ran his tongue up and down the ridges of Potter's cock only for him to let out these little mewling sounds that drove Draco mad.

"Oh, gods, Draco," Potter gasped brokenly. "Draco, I'm-"

He gave one extra hard suck and Potter was coming, bucking and thrusting forwards with a cry. Draco swallowed the bitter, salty liquid and caught Potter as he sunk to the ground. He captured his mouth in another kiss, then removed the blindfold. He wanted to see those eyes.

"Merlin, Malfoy," Potter gasped.

"You were calling me by my given name a moment ago, you know," Draco pointed out, not sure why the change upset him.

"Draco," said Potter – Harry – after a moment's hesitation. "Draco, that was…"

"I know," cut in the Slytherin, feeling rather pleased with himself.

"Your turn," whispered Harry, green eyes boring into grey, and he gave up without a fight. He unbound Harry's hands and held still while Harry bound him with the Gryffindor tie in return. Harry slipped the Slytherin blindfold on, and he felt his senses heighten in response. He heard Harry replacing his clothing.

He felt Harry draw near, sliding in between his legs, and his breath caught. Spots of colour appeared high on his cheeckbones as Harry licked a stripe along his jaw, up towards his ear then down his neck.

He shivered. "Harry…"

Harry fumbled with his trousers, and he heard the sound of his own fly being drawn, and lifted his hips so Harry could draw off the trousers and his pants. He was painfully hard and leaking, aching for what was to come.

He heard Harry's inrush of breath as his own erection sprang free, and for a moment there was silence and cold air on his prick. Then he felt Harry's breath ghost over the head, and let out a loud moan.

Harry took him into his mouth inexpertly, but enthusiastically. He was careful with his teeth, and while it wasn't the most technically proficient blowjob Draco had ever received, it was definitely the most erotic. Never before had he trusted a partner to bind him like this, and there was something intoxicating about being at Harry's mercy, in a different yet much the same way that having him at his own mercy had been.

But more than that; the fire, the electricity that was present for all their kisses was present as Harry went down on him and served to make it more thrilling than any other such experience he'd had. He doubted very much that he could be so easily satisfied with anyone else now that he'd had a taste of what it was like with Harry.

He cried out and cursed as Harry worked his tongue up and down and dipping into his slit, teasing and taunting him till he broke. When he came it was like lightning blinding him and coursing through his veins.

He shook and quaked in the aftermath, shocked by the intensity. Harry kissed him gently and removed the blindfold.

"Thank you for trusting me," he said.

"You trusted me," Draco's voice shook.

"True," Harry smiled. "And you didn't even take any pictures."

Draco's jaw dropped. "You knew?"

"I suspected," Harry admitted. "But I wanted you too badly to care." He unbound Draco's hands.

Draco stared. Harry fiddled with his shoelace. "Same time tomorrow?" he murmured, like always.

"No," said Draco, suddenly. Potter looked stricken, though he tried not to show it.

"Alright," he started, hesitantly. "I guess that maybe I should go…" Draco snaked out an arm and grabbed the other boy's wrist as he made to rise.

"Tomorrow's Hogsmeade," observed Draco. Harry nodded uncertainly. "Go with me?" Draco's nonchalance was forced, and it took Harry a minute to process what he'd said. When he did his smile was like the sun.

"Are you asking me on a date, Draco Malfoy?" he teased.

"Shut up before I change my mind," snapped Draco.

"Does this mean you want to be… more than this?" Harry couldn't keep the anxiousness out of his voice.

"Yeah."

"Like… boyfriends?"

"If you're interested, maybe. Let's just go on that date and see how it goes. That is unless you don't want to." Draco hesitated. " _Do_  you want to?"

"Fuck yes," Harry whispered.

So Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter kissed some more, hidden in the stacks.


	2. Hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go on their first date, but the best laid plans so often go awry... and theirs are no exception.

**Chapter Two:** Hogsmeade

 **Disclaimer:** J. K. Rowling owns everything. I own nothing. Nothing, that is, except my little plot of story on which I intend to cultivate a little garden of Drarry.

 **Warnings:** Obscure violence. Slight slashiness.

 **A/N:**  This was originally intended to be a PWP, but turned into something more when I was asked to continue it and was struck by an idea for a plot. Thanks to **rlassie, VenestusLovesJames, SHINeeinkwell101, Wastepaperbin, Princess-Warrior 17, harrytwifan, Sheri Contrary, DragonLover9865, trollnexus, America's Lover,** and **Guests**  for reviewing my original PWP! Thanks to  **Sheri Contrary**  and  **DragonLover9865**  for suggesting I continue the story, and special thanks to  **Princess-Warrior 17**  for brainstorming some ideas with me for the plot!

* * *

  
_Come on and take me underground_   
_Deep under the street_   
_Come on and take me, take me down_   
_The freaks like us can meet_   
_Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up, turn it way up_   
_Don't stop the beat_   


_Shady - Adam Lambert_

* * *

Harry ran a comb through his jet-black hair in one last, frustrated attempt to make it do anything rather than stick up in all directions at once. He stared at his reflection and let out a resigned sigh at the futility of his efforts. Clad in tight, dark washed jeans and a fitted green jumper that brought out his eyes – Hermione had taken him shopping last summer, declaring his entire wardrobe to be a disgrace and as a result he was better dressed than he'd ever been – he supposed he was ready. He pushed his glasses a little further up on his nose and licked his lips; willing the butterflies in his stomach to go away.

This was  _Malfoy_. The blond had seen him practically every day of the school-year for the past seven years – last year being the notable exception. The point was; Malfoy  _knew_  what he looked like. Malfoy already knew Harry's hair had never behaved a day in his life. He'd seen Harry in Dudley's old cast offs. Harry didn't know why he was trying so hard, or why he felt so unaccountably nervous.

 _Yes, you do,_  his subconscious chirped at him.  _It's because this is a date._

 _Date_. Funny how one word could make him feel simultaneously like running around the dorm whooping at the top of his lungs, and hiding underneath his bed until the day was over. He took a deep breath. He was being ridiculous.

Letting the air slowly out of his lungs, Harry glanced at his watch. Five minutes till ten. It was time to go.

Rather than meeting in the eighth year's common room where everyone could see them and speculate, Harry had suggested meeting by the statue of the one-eyed witch so they could use the secret passageway into Honeydukes' cellar. Malfoy had agreed, and was both intrigued and scandalized that Harry had known about a secret passage he himself was unaware of. They agreed to meet at quarter after ten, and Harry didn't want to be late.

Sliding on his invisibility cloak, Harry hurried out of the eighth year Gryffindor boys' dormitory, down into the main eighth year common room. A section of the castle had been set up to accommodate all the eighth years – students old enough to have completed their seventh year who had been unable to do so due to the war and needed the preparation before taking their NEWTS – and it had a separate dormitory for boys and girls of each house. Each dormitory was decorated in house colours, while the main common room was done in neutral shades.

The houses mainly kept to themselves, despite McGonagall's hopes for interhouse unity –  _If she could only see how unified Slytherin and Gryffindor were in the library stacks,_ thought Harry – and everyone got along mainly by ignoring one another's existences. There was the occasional interhouse game of Exploding Snap or Wizard Chess by the fire, as well as interhouse gambling on the results of those games or of this week's Quidditch scores, run by Seamus and aided by Dean.

Overall, the shared common room was less of a problem for the students than one might have expected. Certainly, there had been hexes fired during the first week or two, particularly between Slytherin and Gryffindor, but they had put aside their hatred of each other in favour of indifference, Fewer detentions and lost house points resulted from that strategy, and it kept things in a state of relative calm.

Most of the students had already left for Hogsmeade, so there were only a few stragglers for Harry to avoid as he slipped through the common room towards the portrait. Fortunately, those who remained were all occupied with reading or playing cards and Harry was able to ease the portrait open unnoticed.

He pulled out the Marauder's Map, tapping it with his wand and whispering, "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good!" After all, he was invisible, not impalpable. It wouldn't do to run into someone.

He made his way through the halls to where Malfoy – no, Draco was waiting. After all, the blond had asked him to call him Draco yesterday, and Harry was nothing if not obliging. The fact that it made his heart race to have the Slytherin's name on his lips had nothing to do with it.

He tried to deny that his heart raced when he thought of Draco and found he couldn't. He didn't know how he felt about that. Yes, they were going on a date; but for now the only relationship they had was purely physical. If it became more than that after today, well that was then. This was now, and it wouldn't do to have to admit he was already smitten. One thing was certain; his feelings towards the other boy had never been half-hearted. Granted, the bulk of what he'd felt towards Draco over the years had been negative, but it was never ambivalent or mild.

Since their trysts in the stacks began he'd taken to watching Draco as obsessively as he had in sixth year, only this time without the hatred and suspicion to blind him to the blond's good points. He noticed how the arrogance which had once been so off-putting was now something to be admired, that the blond retained his pride and self-respect regardless of what public opinion thought of him. Harry knew firsthand how difficult it could be to manage that when you were public enemy number one; he couldn't help admiring the grace with which Draco handled being publicly shunned.

He understood that Draco was a proud young man, a pureblood, one who knew who he was and what his place in the world was, and didn't stop believing in it simply because of public opinion. He was a sensitive boy, one who felt things deeply, but whose pride kept him from acknowledging this fact, though his expressive mercurial eyes gave him away. He was intelligent, witty, sarcastic, and a powerful wizard. The longer Harry watched the blond the more he felt he understood him, and the stronger and more powerful his attraction to and desire for him became.

He might not love Draco Malfoy, but he was falling for him.

And there was the man himself. Standing in the corridor, leaning against the statue of the one-eyed witch, short, platinum hair immaculately in place, wearing his trademark smirk along with grey slacks and a black jumper, both fitted enough to show off his finely toned physique – a physique Harry had become rather intimately acquainted with in the library. He flushed as he remembered how the blond had moaned wantonly for him as he had taken Draco's cock in his mouth. His own twitched at the memory, and he willed it to behave. This was a date, a first date; and he was going to be a gentleman.

He pulled off the cloak and Draco gaped at him. "An invisibility cloak, Potter?"

"Surprise," Harry murmured. "How do you think I managed to get away with so much all these years?"

"Potter, you brat," muttered Draco, aghast. "If I'd only known…"

"You'd have ruined it for me and made my life miserable," finished Harry.

Draco chuckled, but Harry seized on something that had caught his attention. "Potter, eh? So we're back to last names, Malfoy?" He felt a twinge of regret.

"Well, no, just habit," admitted Draco, flushing slightly, patches of pink appearing across his pale cheekbones. Harry decided it was a good look on him.

"Alright, then, Draco," he purred into the blond's ear and was rewarded by a deeper flush lighting on the boy's pale cheeks and down his neck. Draco did blush prettily.

"Sod off, Potter," he grumbled. At Harry's look he amended, "Sod off,  _Harry_." He huffed. "This is really going to cramp my style, you know."

"I'm counting on it," Harry chuckled. He then checked his Map, tapping the parchment and whispering "Mischief managed," and folded it up, putting it away. Malfoy gave him an inquisitive glance but he ignored it. The Map he could share with Draco another time.  _If there is another_ time. He shook the thought away and he tapped the witch's hump, whispering, " _Dissendium_." The passage opened and Draco quirked a brow, impressed but not admitting it.

The boys walked in silence for a little while. They enjoyed simply being in one another's company while sneaking covert glances at each other for a while. Silence was easy. Harry could do silence well. What if he opened his mouth and mucked it all up? What's more, it was a good silence, the kind you didn't need to fill.

However Harry found himself  _wanting_  to fill it, not because it was uncomfortable, but simply because he wanted to get to know the blond better and have the blond know him better, and if this date didn't go well it might be his only chance.

"So, Draco," he caught the blond's attention. "What are your plans after graduation? What do you want to be?"

It was an honest question, but from Draco's reaction it was obviously the wrong one. He scowled and his face darkened. "Oh, let's see, Potter," he sneered. "I thought I might be a professional Quidditch player. Everyone knows how much the fans love the dark mark; I bet they'll go wild with cheering for me because of it. Thanks to that mark, I have so many options." He rolled his eyes.

Harry was stung. He'd asked the question out of genuine interest, not realising that it was a sore spot for the other boy. Something in his face or his voice gave Harry pause and he asked, "You want to be a professional Quidditch player?"

"Obviously I was being sarcastic, Potter. Even a house elf could understand that." Draco sneered again.

"But you really wish you could, don't you? If you had your choice, that's what you'd be, isn't it?" Harry challenged.

"So what if it is?" Draco snarled at him. He rounded on Harry, straightening up to his full height, a good two inches or so above Harry's. He balled his fists at his sides in fury.

Harry reached out and stroked Draco's jaw, gently caressing it with his fingers and thumb. Draco tried to move away from him but he caught the other boy's wrist and held him still. "Draco," he said softly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I upset you, and I'm sorry about your dream."

"Wasn't a dream," Draco muttered. "It was just a stupid fantasy."

"Either way," Harry said firmly. "I'm sorry. But you do have lots of options, you know. You just need to be creative in looking for them."

"Like you'd know all about that. You're just going to graduate and become Mr. Hot Shot Auror." Draco snorted derisively.

"Actually no," Harry shot back. "I don't want to be an Auror. I used to, but not anymore. I'm not sure what I want now, but it isn't that. I'm struggling to find out where my place is in the world after this war, too, you know."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Please, don't pretend it's the same thing.  _Everybody_  will want to hire you. You'll still be able to do whatever you want."

"It's different, but it's similar in that we both have a stigma attached to our names and it's not going to be easy to find a way to live without it affecting us. I don't want to be the Ministry's poster boy, so I can't be an Auror, even though I bet I'd be great at it. I love Quidditch but I could never play professionally because this," he touched his scar, "Would have every bit as strong an effect on my career as this," he grabbed Draco's left arm and pressed his fingers into the dark mark before Draco could react, "Would on yours."

Draco stared.

"I'm trying anyway, and trying not to begrudge my friends for having more options than me. I know how that feels. You're not alone, Draco." He licked his lips nervously.

He opened his mouth to say continue but never got the words out. Draco's mouth was on his, hot and wet and soft and inviting. He tasted of vanilla and spice. He nipped at Harry's lower lips and with a groan, Harry responded. Draco's tongue teased his mouth for entrance, and he opened to it without question.

They kissed passionately, tongues battling for dominance and teeth clacking once or twice in their fervour. Draco pushed Harry up against the wall and he moaned into their kiss as he felt Draco's trim body lining up with his own. He slid his arms around the Slytherin, one hand snaking around his waist to pull him close, the other cupping the back of Draco's neck. Draco's hands were in his hair, running through it and pulling on it and bringing him closer. When they finally broke apart it was to pant for breath. Harry gave Draco a dazed look. "What was that for?"

Draco flushed. "Sod off, Potter," he mumbled, and began walking again. Harry stumbled, then hurried to keep up. The blond's mood swings had him confused.

"My father wants me to get into the Ministry," Draco volunteered after a moment. "The position itself doesn't matter as much as how much influence I'd be able to wield and how many contacts I'd be able to make." There was a dull, almost bitter edge to his voice.

"But you're free to do as you wish," pointed out Harry. "You still have options if you don't want what he wants for you."

"Have you ever tried to cross Lucius Malfoy?" asked Draco sardonically. "It's not exactly the easiest path you could take."

"Actually, I have," Harry replied coolly, knowing even as he did that they were referring to things that had happened during the war; from before the war, and the probable outcome of such a conversation made him nervous. He strove to keep his tone light. "I came out alright. So could you. Your father's a lot less scary than you think."

Draco looked at him with one brow arched high into his fringe. "I'd forgotten," he sneered. "You're Harry Bloody Potter." He sniffed. Harry sighed, exasperated.

"Fine," he snapped. "Be miserable." He shot a glare at the blond. "Last time I try to cheer you up," he muttered.

"Well you were doing a lovely job of it," Draco glared back, voice dripping with sarcasm. Harry sighed. In what universe had he thought this would work? He stopped.

"Let's just go back."

Draco stopped short at his words, and turned back and looked at him, confusion written in his face.

"This… whatever this is," Harry gestured between them. "It's not working, obviously. We can't even be civil."

Draco looked shaken. "Look Potter – Harry," he said, licking his lips, eyes darting. "I know I can be a bit of a prat sometimes –"

"A bit? Sometimes?" Harry raised a brow and looked sceptically back at Draco – no, Malfoy. He wasn't going to call him Draco if they were just going to fight all the time.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at Harry. He ignored Harry's comment and continued. "I know I can be… difficult… at times. But I want this to work." He flushed, crimson creeping not just across his pale cheekbones, but down his neck as well. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood, fidgeting like a child.

It struck Harry then that Malfoy had been looking forward to this date as much as he had been, had been as nervous as he had been, and that he was an idiot if he expected them to get along perfectly right off the bat, considering how recently they'd been one another's nemesis. Malfoy was trying to apologize, in his own way, and Harry wasn't going to let that effort go to waste. Maybe he'd even call him Draco again.

A slow, crooked grin was spreading over his features. "Yeah," he said. "Me too."

Malfoy gave him a small, crooked smile of his own, and a warm light glowed in his silvery eyes. "So," he spoke up. "What about you? How are you being creative in looking for your options?"

"Well, Malfoy, I thought I'd become an exotic dancer."

Malfoy stared for a moment before bursting into snickers.

"What?" Harry pretended to be insulted. "I could do it. My stage name could be 'Greased Lightning'." Malfoy's snickers turned into full blown laughter at the thought.

"I was serious, Potter," he pointed out, calming down.

"So was I," Harry grinned, unrepentant.

Draco – Harry decided that yes, he was going to call him Draco again – groaned and rolled his eyes. Harry chuckled.

"Prat," Draco snorted.

"You love it," Harry countered with a grin.

"Like a migraine," Draco sniffed.

Harry laughed mirthfully.

"So, in all seriousness," Draco persisted. "What are your plans after graduating?" The boys began to walk again, side by side in easy camaraderie.

"I'm not entirely sure yet," admitted Harry. "I've thought about becoming a healer, but you need an "O" in potions, and without the Prince's book I'm rubbish at potions."

"The Prince's book?" Draco shot him a quizzical look.

"Err, well; remember how I got really good at Potions in sixth year?"

"I was a little preoccupied at the time, Potter," Draco said dryly.

"Oh. Right. Well I had Snape's old Potions book from his sixth year, with all of his changes and corrections, suggestions and advice in it. It even had spells he'd made up, like  _Sectumsempra_." Harry drew in a swift breath. He hadn't meant to mention that. "It… the book didn't say what that spell did, Draco. I – I've always been sorry – so sorry for that – you have to believe me, I –"

"It's alright, Harry," Draco wasn't looking at him, and his face was an impassive mask. Harry's stomach clenched. "I did try to  _Crucio_  you. And if you say you didn't know what that spell did, I believe you." He smiled at Harry then, and it was a genuine smile. There was a hint of pain in his steely eyes, but the smile was true. Harry relaxed.

"So, you had Snape's old book? How'd that happen?"

"I needed a textbook, and it was in the Potions supply cupboard. It didn't say it was Snape's; is said it belonged to the "Half-Blood Prince". I didn't find out who that was till after I'd gotten rid of it. But while I had it, it was the greatest help to me all year."

"Why didn't you keep it? Merlin knows you're hopeless in Potions. You need the help."

"After… after the  _Sectumsempra_  thing…" Draco winced at the name and Harry wished he could take it back. "Hermione convinced me that whoever owned it couldn't have been good, and I should get rid of it." There was a tinge of bitterness to his words; he regretted not keeping the book. "So I left it in the Room of Requirement. And it got destroyed."  _By the Fiendfyre_. He didn't have to add the words. Draco knew.

Draco nodded. "So not a healer?" he returned to the original question.

"I could always be a Fantasy Broker," said Harry in a half-joking tone. At Draco's puzzled look he explained. "A Fantasy Broker is someone who uses vast amounts of money, influence, and connections to fulfill their clients' fantasies. They're hired to make people's dreams come true." He'd learned about them while studying for a Muggle Studies essay on interesting muggle jobs. He wasn't sure if there was an equivalent in the Magical world or not, but figured that there could be.

Draco looked slightly impressed. "That could be fun." He thought for a moment, and frowned. "Or it could make you really sick of people, really fast. Can you imagine some of the sick shit you might get asked to do?"

Harry thought a moment, and shuddered. Images he'd seen during the war leapt unbidden into his mind, and he felt repulsed by the memory of what some people thought was ideal. That was not a road he wanted to go down.

"I could always be a Snake Milker." That was another one he'd learned about through his essay and figured could be carried over into the magical world.

Draco stopped, turning to stare at him incredulously. His lips twitched. "What?"

"A Snake Milker," repeated Harry. "Someone who milks the venom from snakes for use in potions and antidotes. I could use my Parseltongue."

Draco was already laughing – out right loud laughing – before he'd even finished speaking. Harry felt a twinge of annoyance.

"What's so funny?"

"You can milk my snake anytime, Harry." Draco winked and leered at him suggestively, still chuckling. "Feel free to use Parseltongue. It might be kind of hot." He doubled up again, laughing as if he'd just been let in on a great joke.

Harry groaned. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"More like slithered into it," grinned Draco. "If you ever need practice, feel free to milk my snake whenever you want. Seeing as it's for your job and all."

Harry's face flamed. "Get your head out of the gutter," he growled. He felt embarrassed and a trifle humiliated at not having noticed such an obvious innuendo and leaving himself wide open to Draco's teasing.

"Nope, it's fun down here," chortled Draco. "You look quite cute when you're humiliated; did I ever tell you?" Harry's face flamed even more at the compliment, so much so that he thought it was a wonder he didn't explode. "I think that's part of why I've always loved to humiliate you," Draco went on blithely. "You look so adorable."

"Sod off," grumped Harry. He didn't know if Draco was being serious or just teasing him, though he suspected the latter. It was just the sort of thing Draco would do; discover something was making Harry uncomfortable and continue with it until it drove Harry mad.

"Nope," chirped Draco, smirking. "This is fun. Pretty princess," he added, not bothering to stifle the laughter that bubbled up at Harry's mortified and slightly outraged look.

"Pretty princess, Draco? Really?" Harry rolled his eyes. "Now that's just pathetic."

Draco opened his mouth to no doubt, call him another name or adjective with the intent of embarrassing or infuriating him, so he chose to head him off.

"I think I'd really like to be a Herpetological Chocolatier."

Draco cocked his head, his teasing game momentarily forgotten. "A what now?"

"I'd like to get involved in making chocolate frogs," Harry grinned. "It sounds like a really fun career."

Draco snickered. "Kid," he teased.

"At least I know how to have fun," Harry shot back.

"I can think of several things more fun than chocolate frogs," Draco replied, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"None I'd want for a career; really, I'm surprised at you, Malfoy," Harry mocked.

"Draco," the boy corrected with a small frown, and Harry smiled.

"Draco," he agreed.

Harry continued to regal Draco with suggested careers inspired by his Muggle Studies essay, such as the idea of a Fire Magician – a person who studies and works with fire doing everything from damage control to deliberately blowing things up, and is specially trained in arson investigation and emergency situations. Both boys enjoyed that career option in particular – they came up with many different ways it would be useful and interesting to have. Harry particularly liked the idea that he could work with the Aurors but be an independent investigator and therefore out of the Ministry's control.

Draco continued to tease him about everything he came up with. They reached Honeydukes' cellar in what seemed to be no time at all, and slipped under Harry's invisibility cloak together to sneak out of the cellar and into the store.

They squabbled a bit over the itinerary; Draco squashing Harry's suggested places to visit by reminding him how likely he was to run into his friends in those places.

"Unless you'd like to explain this to them now, Harry, and I don't really think we're ready for that."

Much as it pained him to admit it, Harry had to acknowledge that the other boy was right. Reluctantly he agreed to go with Draco's itinerary for the day.

Draco's first stop was at Dominic Maestro's, to pick up some sheet music for his mother as part of her birthday gift – he intended to complete the gift with a trinket owl ordered from a shop in Diagon Alley. Next was Scrivenshaft's for some school supplies – Draco had recently broken a few too many quills and needed more parchment as well; next was Potage's to check out the newest line of cauldrons that had just come in; Tomes and Scrolls for the latest installment in a series he was reading, which amused Harry to no end as he'd never thought the blond to be one for serials; and Dogweed and Deathcap for some potions supplies.

The only place the two of them both wanted to go – besides Scrivenshaft's; Harry needed new quills and parchment as well – was Spintwitches. Harry was worried about running into Ron there, but their desire to see the latest model of broom outweighed their desire to avoid places they might be caught out. The only other thing they could agree on was that neither of them wanted to go anywhere near Madam Puddifoot's.

However, Harry was pleased to note that the blond's final planned stop would be at Dervish & Banges, to inquire about an apprenticeship. "I really liked the way it felt to fix that vanishing cabinet," he explained almost shyly. "If they're willing to have me I thought it might be fun to learn more about repairing magical artifacts and restoring them to use." Harry was proud.

They couldn't go to the Three Broomsticks; it was too likely they'd be recognized, but they intended to have lunch at the Hog's Head. Harry knew if he asked Aberforth, the man would likely give them a booth where they would be safe from prying eyes. And he did, though he gave Harry a curious glance when Harry explained that he didn't want to be found by his friends.

They were having lunch there when it happened. There was a series of terrific bangs, and screaming began outside the pub. There was the sound of shattering glass as the windows were blown in. Violence erupted all around them. Pandemonium broke loose inside the pub; no one knew what was going on and everyone was afraid.

Harry's first instinct was to run outside and find out what was happening and see what he could do to help, but he glanced at Draco and his blood ran cold.

The blond was slumped over in his seat; a large shard of glass protruding from his neck and he was bleeding heavily. Harry was afraid to touch him, for fear of making him bleed out faster. He realised with sickening horror that Draco was going to bleed to death if he didn't get him medical attention right away.

 


	3. Healing and the Advent of Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is in desperate need of healing - but their problems don't end with the infirmary. Who was behind the attack?

**Chapter Three:** Healing and the Advent of Fear

**Disclaimer:** J. owns it all, I just have a ball, borrowing Harry and Draco from the haul, to make each other maul.

**Warnings:** This chapter? I think a tiny bit of language. A boy kisses.

**A/N:**  This chapter is a little more dull. It's important for later, though! Sorry it's late; I've been behind for a week now. Finally getting caught up!

Thanks to  **VenustusLovesJames, Princess-Warrior 17, Water0Blossom, Gavin Ampora, Nix Calliope, Sherri Contrary, rlassie, Bananas-ofthe-WorldUNITE, Daddy's little crazy bitch, Ty,** and **Rufescent**  for reviewing! Thanks to everyone who read, followed, favourited, and reviewed! You guys rock! Remember: reviews make writers happy, and I always reply. :)

* * *

  
_There's a thin line 'tween the dark side,_   
_And the light side, baby tonight_   
_It's a struggle, gotta rumble, tryin'a find it_   
_But if I had you,_   
_That would be the only thing I'd ever need_   
_Yeah if I had you,_   
_The money, fame and fortune never could compete_   


_If I Had You - Adam Lambert_

* * *

_Last Chapter:_

Harry's first instinct was to run outside and find out what was happening and see what he could do to help, but he glanced at Draco and his blood ran cold.

The blond was slumped over in his seat; a large shard of glass protruding from his neck and he was bleeding heavily. Harry was afraid to touch him, for fear of making him bleed out faster. He realised with sickening horror that Draco was going to bleed to death if he didn't get him medical attention right away.

* * *

Harry carefully levitated the blond, and erected a shield charm around him to move him to the bar without being jostled by the pandemonium around them.

"Aberforth!" he shouted above the din, catching the older man's attention. "I need to access the passageway into Hogwarts. I need it now!" Aberforth's eyes widened at the sight of Draco, dripping blood. With a terse nod he led the way and Harry followed him, up the stairs and into Aberforth's rooms.

"You can't get in from here," began Aberforth and Harry cut him off.

"I know." He drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes and thought of all the pleasant things he could. His parents telling him they loved him and were proud of him, Sirius hugging him, Remus teaching him how to defend himself from Dementors. Hermione and Ron, always there for him. Flying, high above the world, chasing a snitch. Draco holding him, kissing him.

" _Expecto Patronum_!" he yelled, releasing his stag. "Go to McGonagall," he instructed. "Tell her that there's been an attack in Hogsmeade, and she needs to firecall the Aurors. I need Madam Pomfrey in the Room of Requirement, to come through to the Hog's Head now. It's a matter of life or death. Bring lots of blood replenishing potions, dittany, and healing supplies. Quickly!"

His stag raced away with the message and he drew in another breath. Turning to the portrait of Ariana, he asked, "Could you go to the Room of Requirement and wait for whoever comes?" She nodded and left.

He glanced at Aberforth. "I don't suppose you know any healing spells, do you?"

Aberforth shook his head, regretfully. "Nothing that will help with this. He needs proper medical care. But we've got to do something to slow the bleeding."

Harry nodded. "I know. I just don't know how." He stared at Draco, willing him to stop bleeding, to stop growing paler. He was already so pale; did his skin have to be turning that chalky white colour that made Harry's blood run cold?

However Ariana returned within a few moments, and Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were with her. They climbed out of the portrait hole and gasped when they saw Draco and heard the chaos.

"No time to explain," said Harry as he levitated Draco towards Madam Pomfrey. "Before he bleeds out anymore; hurry!"

"Lay him down," ordered Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall transfigured a hospital bed and Pomfrey nodded thanks to her. Harry levitated Draco to the bed and set him down as gently as possible. Even so, his position was jostled and the blood flow seemed to increase. Harry paled.

"I'm going to need your help, Mr. Potter. When I tell you, please pour these potions," she handed him several blood replenishing potions, "Down Mr. Malfoy's throat. Understand?" He nodded.

Madam Pomfrey got to work. She poured a blood replenishing potion down Draco's throat, and began muttering healing and diagnostic spells. She removed the shard, and sure enough Draco's wound began to gush blood. She increased her chanting, and nodded to Harry, who poured the other potions into Draco's mouth. She dropped dittany on the wound. It was slowly knitting itself back together, and the potions kept him from bleeding out completely.

Soon his wound was healed, but he remained unconscious.

"We'll have to get him back to the infirmary," said Madam Pomfrey.

Harry nodded, never taking his eyes off Draco. "Will he be alright?"

"The worst danger has passed. He should be fine with some rest."

There were still screams and shouts and crashes echoing from outside, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He knew, in a detached sort of way that there was an attack of some kind going on; most likely death eaters on the run making a last stand. He could hear the pops of Apparition sounding from outside, whether from people coming or going he couldn't tell.

"Poppy, it might be a good idea for you to come back once you have Mr. Malfoy settled into the hospital wing. Merlin knows how many others there are who need medical attention as soon as we can give it." Madam Pomfrey nodded her assent, as she began levitating Draco towards the open portrait hole.

Headmistress McGonagall turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, the Aurors are on their way. I'm going to see how many of the student s I can get back to Hogwarts through the passageway. Will you come with me?"

Harry hesitated. He knew it was the right thing to do. But he also knew that Draco would be waking up soon, weak, disoriented, and most likely quite frightened. He didn't need to be alone, too. If Madam Pomfrey was going to be leaving…

"If it's all the same, Professor McGonagall, I think I'll wait with Draco."

The look of surprise on her face startled him a little. Was it really so out of character for him to do this? He shifted uncomfortably. He knew what was expected of him. He would go out and fight, alongside McGonagall, alongside the Aurors, he would save people. That was what he did.

"The Aurors will be here any minute; that may have even been them arriving a moment ago; it probably was. I've fought enough for one lifetime." Harry's voice was tired.

McGonagall's face softened. "Of course, Mr. Potter," she murmured. "I understand."

"I just nearly watched my date die," Harry continued. "I'd like him not to be alone when he wakes up. I'd like to be able to explain to him what happened and reassure him that he'll be fine while he freaks out and acts like the spoiled prat he is." His tone was one of exasperated fondness. McGonagall raised a brow but did not comment. Harry was grateful for the discretion.

He honestly wasn't sure how he would answer questions if he were asked about Draco. How did he feel about the blond? He was falling for him, yes; but how deeply had he fallen so far and why on earth did it have to be him? Why had they begun their affair in the first place? Didn't they hate each other?

"You'd best get going, then," Professor McGonagall observed, gesturing to Madam Pomfrey's retreating back. He nodded, and hurried after the nurse.

* * *

"Harry?"

Harry woke with a start. He'd dozed off in his chair waiting for Draco to wake up. He leaned forward, eyeing the frightened blond and giving him a small smile.

"Glad to see you awake again."

"What happened?" Draco's voice was weak; hoarse. His blond lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he struggled to remain conscious. "How did I get here? What's going on, Potter?" The Slytherin was demanding, but in such a feeble, frightened voice that Harry's heart ached. He reached out and Harry took his hand, stroking it with the pad of his thumb.

"Hush, it's okay now." Harry drew in a breath. "There was some kind of attack on Hogsmeade. The window got blown out and some glass lodged in your throat. You were bleeding out, so I called for Madam Pomfrey and got you transported back to the castle once she stopped the bleeding. You're perfectly fine now, you just need lots of rest." He schooled his voice to be calm and as soothing as possible.

Draco lay still, eyes closed, and Harry thought he might have gone back to sleep. Then he spoke. "Thank you."

"For what?" Harry was surprised.

"Saving me. I'm sure without your help I wouldn't have come out so lucky." Draco admitted grudgingly. "You seem to do that a lot," he murmured.

"Do what?"

"Save me." His voice was soft, and his breathing evened out. Harry wondered if the blond even knew what he was saying. Somehow he doubted that it was a confession he would have heard otherwise. He smiled at his sleeping… boyfriend? Lover? Paramour? He wasn't sure what Draco was to him, but he decided that was alright, for now. He'd worry about that once Draco was feeling better.

He settled in for a long wait, still holding Draco's hand. Madam Pomfrey eventually returned, and he smiled at her and reported in hushed tones that Draco had woken up briefly before falling back asleep. There were wounded who were brought in as well, and the Hospital Wing was bustling with a flurry of activity for a while.

It finally died down as the other patients quieted and soon the only sounds were breathing and the odd cough. He watched Draco for a while longer before a noise caught his attention. Turning, he saw Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zambini entering the Hospital Wing. They looked frantic.

"Where's Draco?" he heard Blaise ask Madam Pomfrey. His tone was clipped and worry seeped through. "We heard he was here."

"He's alright, isn't he?" Pansy sounded desperate and scared.

"He's fine," Madam Pomfrey assured her. "He's sleeping right now."

"Can we see him?"

"Certainly, dear."

Madam Pomfrey gestured towards Draco's bed. The duo looked over and spotted Harry. He waved awkwardly as they walked over.

"Potter?" Pansy sounded dumbfounded, and Blaise had one brow arched so high it was lost in his fringe.

"Hi," he offered, feebly.

"What are  _you_  doing here?"

"I was… there when he got injured. I didn't want him to be alone when he woke up." He glanced down at the hand Draco was still clasping. He felt their eyes follow his.

"Well, his friends are here now," Pansy said, after a pregnant pause where she and Blaise stared pointedly at him and he didn't leave. "You can go."

There was a sudden uproar at the door to the hospital wing, and Harry recognized the voices he heard.

"Ron? Hermione?" His eyes were wide.

"Harry!" Hermione ran over and launched herself at him. Over her shoulder he saw Luna, Neville, and Ginny as well as Ron hurrying over. "Harry," Hermione said, her face buried in his neck. "We were so worried when we heard you were in here!"

"Oh, err, I'm fine, Mione," Harry said, somewhat uncomfortably. He had a mouthful of frizzy brown hair and that was something he'd grown resigned to happening whenever she hugged him over the years. "I wasn't hurt." He awkwardly patted her back with his free hand.

"Then what were you doing here?" Ron looked at him with honest curiosity.

"Potter was just leaving, right, Potter?" Pansy shot him a pointed look. Her gaze fastened on his and Draco's joined hands again, and the others' gazes followed. Harry was starting to wish he'd just let Draco's hand drop. It was too late now; besides, Draco had a firm grip for someone who was unconscious.

"Harry, what's going on?" Hermione pulled back and studied his face.

"Why are you holding Malfoy's hand?" Ginny's eyes narrowed.

"If you're not hurt why are you here?" Neville simply looked concerned, not angry.

"Oi! What's with the ferret, mate?" Ron's face was flushed.

"Don't call him that!" Pansy growled, practically launching herself at Ron.

"So many wrackspurts in here," observed Luna solemnly. "It's a mercy any of us can think at all!"

"Get lost," Blaise folded his arms over his chest.

They all seemed to be talking at once, and at high volume. Draco shifted where he lay and let out a whimper. Harry almost didn't hear it. But he did, and it was responsible for his next actions.

" _Silencio_!" He hissed, casting a wandless silencing charm on the group. They continued babbling at each other for a moment before realising they had lost their voices. Then they gaped at him. He glared back.

"Draco needs to rest," he said, his voice low and even. "You're all too loud.  _All_  of you," he eyed Pansy as he put extra emphasis on the last sentence. "You want to be here, you be quiet and respect that this is a hospital wing, not a common room. Now get out or shut up!"

If they'd gaped at him before, that was nothing compared to the looks of astonishment he was getting now. Harry rubbed his temples with his free hand. He supposed Madam Pomfrey would have taken care of the noise problem if he had left them to be loud for a few more minutes, but he hadn't wanted Draco disturbed any more than he had been already.

He wondered how he would explain all this to his friends when they asked. Why he was there, why he was holding Draco's hand, fuck; even why he was calling him Draco.

He and the Slytherin had agreed to keep their new… relationship… under wraps, for the time being. What they would say and if they would say anything was going to be largely contingent on the results of their date – which had gone rather well until it all went to hell. Harry supposed that getting your throat half torn out by a rogue windowpane sliver was hardly the best way to end a date, but it wasn't like he could just ask Draco where they stood right now.

Harry had been caught in a rather interesting and unexpected situation now. And Draco wasn't conscious to ask what he wanted Harry to say. Harry was going to be winging it, to both his friends and perhaps Draco's as well. It made him uncomfortable and he felt horrid. He wasn't that good at lying, and he doubted that he would be able to keep up any out and out lies for very long. He didn't want to say anything that Draco didn't want him to, either, but the odds were that he would be grilled within an inch of his life before Draco even woke up.

Harry sighed. This was just bloody brilliant.

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Hermione. He looked up to see seven pairs of expectant eyes on him, and he realised that he hadn't cancelled the silencing charm yet. With a groan, he pulled out his wand and prepared to end it. He hesitated.

"You can all keep quiet?" he asked, eyeing them warily. Seven heads bobbed, with varying degrees of irritation and exasperation showing on their faces. He waved his wand and ended the charm.

There was a low murmur as the group tried and found their voices.

"So, wanna tell us what that was all about?" Hermione gave him a careful look. Harry thought fast.

"Draco and I are friends."

There were murmurs of disbelief and the group looked skeptical.

"Friends? With that ferret?"

"Shut up, Weasley, or I'll shut you up!"

"Quiet!" warned Harry, glaring again.

"Draco and I have been spending time together recently," he continued once he was sure no one was going to start up again. "We've been developing a friendship, of sorts. We haven't really talked about it to our other friends because it's so new, we didn't want to make a big deal out of it. We could end up deciding we hate each other again soon. But so far we get along."

So far, what he'd said was true. Sort of.

"Since when are you guys friends?" Pansy looked almost offended by the suggestion.

"Since we bumped into each other in the library and ended up talking for a bit." Harry felt bad about the lie. But it wasn't really a lie. They  _had_  bumped into each other in the library, and they had talked for a bit earlier today. If it weren't for the snogging they could have been considered the beginning of being friends.

"I don't get how you ended up waiting with him, though." Pansy's eyes were narrowed. She seemed to know there was something he wasn't telling and she wanted to find out what it was.

"Because I'm the one who was there when he got hurt. I sent a Patronus to McGonagall and got her to bring Madam Pomfrey to heal him before he could die on me. It was close. I've been waiting with him since then so that he wouldn't have to wake up alone."

"Well, his real friends are here now," Blaise put in. "You don't have to stay anymore." He glared pointedly at their joined hands.

"He doesn't seem to want to let me go," replied Harry, a smile curving on his lips. "He's gripping my hand pretty tight for someone who's unconscious."

"Blimey, Harry, you can't  _want_  to stay, do you?" Ron looked incredulous.

Harry sighed. He wanted to stay with Draco, but realised that he would only complicate things further by doing so. Not to mention he was famished, having missed supper.

Reluctantly he pulled his hand away from Draco. The blond whimpered, and his lashes fluttered. Harry paused, wondering if he was going to wake up. But Draco stilled and he forced himself to turn back to his friends.

"I'm starving," he said, smiling. "Can we stop at the kitchens?"

"Definitely!" agreed Ron.

"I don't see why not," added Hermione. The others made murmurs of agreement as well.

Harry sighed inwardly and followed them out of the wing. He couldn't help glancing back as he left, to see Pansy and Blaise fussing over Draco. Pansy looked up and brown eyes met green. Her own mocha coloured orbs narrowed. Clearly, she thought he was up to something.

* * *

Harry couldn't sleep. He kept thinking about a certain platinum blond with the greyest eyes he'd ever seen, sleeping in the hospital wing. He wondered if Draco had woken up yet.

His friends had peppered him with questions, which he'd done his best to evade, throw off, or lie his way through. He knew Hermione didn't believe half of what he'd said, from the looks she gave him, and he had a feeling Ginny didn't either. Neither girl vocalised her opinion, however, which left Harry feeling grateful and a little saner than he would have otherwise.

He finally climbed out of bed and threw on his invisibility cloak. Tiptoeing out of the dormitory, he crept through the common room and out the portrait hole. He broke into a jog and hurried to the hospital wing.

He slowed as he reached the door. Slipping inside, he made his way over to Draco's bed. Harry looked down at him for a moment, then sat in the chair beside him. Draco stirred.

"Pansy? Blaise?" He opened his eyes and sat up groggily. Harry hesitated, then pulled the cloak off. Draco started. "Oh, it's you," he said wearily.

Harry felt unaccountably nervous. Had the blond expected him to be there when he woke? Was Draco upset with him?

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," he offered. "Your friends kind of kicked me out."

Draco smirked. It was faint, but there. It warmed Harry's heart. He leaned back against the headboard, propping his pillow up behind himself.

"Sounds like them," he offered, dryly. "Not trusting the Gryffindorks."

"I think Pansy thought I was up to something," smiled Harry, choosing to ignore the Gryffindorks comment.

"Potter, aren't you always up to something?"

"No!" protested Harry. "I only get up to something when I'm trying to fight evil." He cocked a playful grin at Draco, who snorted with laughter.

"Yes, because sneaking out of the castle through secret passages and snogging in the library stacks isn't getting up to anything at all. And that's just what I'm aware of lately."

"No, I'm still fighting evil. Cause it would be a sin not to take advantage of such snoggable lips," said Harry with a smirk of his own. Draco lifted a brow at him.

"Well, well; we aren't a corny sap at all, are we?"

"Of course not. Would you be caught dead with me if I were?" Harry grinned. Draco, however, sobered.

"I hear I would have been if it wasn't for you." His voice was soft, serious. He silvery eyes shimmered and his hair seemed to glow in the moonlight. His blond lashes dusted against pale alabaster skin. He was beautiful. "Thank you, Harry."

"You're welcome," Harry replied, a trifle off-kilter, both because of Draco's words and the way Draco looked in the moonlight. "Though I really didn't do much."

"Madam Pomfrey said your quick thinking was the only thing that let her get to me in time. Said I would have bled out if you hadn't kept a clear head."

Harry flushed. "I did what I had to do. I couldn't watch you die, Draco." His voice was soft and tender. It was the closest he'd come to acknowledging his feelings for the blond.

Draco smiled at him; a real smile, not just a smirk. "And for that I thank you." There was something undefinable in his gaze as he looked at Harry. "That's twice now that you've saved me from certain death. First in the Fiendfyre, now here." The boys stared at one another for a long moment.

On sudden impulse, Harry leaned forward and brushed his lips across Draco's. It was nothing like any of the snogs they'd had previously. While those were frantic and passionate, this was gentle and tender. Almost loving.

Somehow it seemed more intimate than anything they'd done so far, and Harry felt his face flaming as he pulled away.

Draco stared at him with a bemused expression on his face.

"Why Potter," he drawled. "You really are a sentimental sap, aren't you?" He sounded amused, and for a moment Harry felt angry.

"Just human, is all," he retorted. "I almost had to watch you die, and I was helpless to stop it, because I didn't know any advanced healing spells. I think under the circumstances I'm allowed to be a trifle sentimental."

Draco sobered up again. "I'm sorry," he offered, and Harry gaped. Draco scowled. "I'm allowed to say sorry once in a while, Potter."

Harry closed his mouth. "Sorry. It's just… not very like you. What I mean is, I never thought I'd hear you say those words, for any reason." He kept backpedalling, but was apparently only capable of making things worse. "That isn't what I meant." He huffed in frustration, and Draco's frown turned to an amused smirk.

"Sure it isn't, Potter,' he sneered.

"When did I become Potter again?" Harry couldn't keep the question back. Draco cocked his head at him.

"Force of habit. You saved my life; I guess the least I could do is call you Harry."

Harry smiled. "At least something good came of this," he offered.

"Oh?" Draco lifted a brow.

"Yeah… I know what I want to do with my life, now."

Draco snorted. "I don't really see what my near death experience has to do with snake milking, Po– Harry."

Harry snorted back. "It doesn't. I want to be a healer."

Draco nodded. "Good for you."

They were silent for a few moments, before Draco spoke again. "Harry, what happened?"

Harry tried to recall everything he'd been told at dinner by the others. "Well, apparently it was an attack by a group of Death Eaters, claiming Voldemort was back and had ordered them to go there. At least that's what they got out of the ones the Aurors captured."

Draco's eyes went wide. "He's not, is he?" There was an undercurrent of terror in his voice, and his eyes flickered to the Mark on his arm.

Harry snorted. "Of course it isn't. He's dead. Gone. You were there; you saw it." He felt driven to reassure the other boy, to let him know that all was well; he was safe.

Draco nodded, looking slightly relieved. "Of course."

Harry tossed about for other conversation topics, and soon the boys were engrossed in a discussion about the Quidditch League and which teams were most likely to make it to the World Cup.

Suddenly Draco cried out, grasping his arm, face white and eyes wide and frightened. "Harry!" he cried, and Harry stared in horror at his left forearm.

Somehow, using power only Voldemort should have had access to, someone was summoning Draco. The Dark Mark was burning.

* * *

**A/N:**  I know, in canon the passage to the RoR was destroyed by Neville's Gran - but for the sake of my story they kept it in case of emergencies. :-P

 


	4. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry talk. Pansy learns about their relationship.

**Chapter Four:** Fever

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing at all. Literally, I'm broke. So sueing me will be grossly ineffective.

**Warnings:** Language. Boy kisses. Pain.

**A/N:**  Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! Thanks for following and favoriting! Thanks to  **Rufescent, DragonLover9865rlassie, Guest, Nyx Calliope, Princess-Warrior 17, hpdC** , and  **Daddy's little crazy bitch!**

Sorry this chapter is so late, guys. I have horrible writer's block and it makes it hard to write. This chapter contains some overlap, because it's switching POV's. If you hate it, tell me and I'll make an effort not to do it in the future.

* * *

  
_Oh baby, light's on_   
_But your mom's not home_   
_I'm sick of laying down alone, hey_   
_With this fever, fever, yeah_   
_My one and own_   
_I wanna get you alone_   
_Give you fever, fever, yeah_   


_Fever - Adam Lambert_

* * *

Draco woke groggily, feeling rather out of place, reality having taken on a surreal sheen that made it difficult to discern if he was truly awake or still dreaming.

One moment he'd been in the Hog's Head with Potter – Harry – and the next he was waking up in the infirmary feeling like he'd spent the last few hours whistling through his throat.

Pansy and Blaise hovered over him protectively. For a brief moment, he felt a thrill of disappointment that Potter hadn't stayed with him, but of course not – that would have led to questions, questions they weren't ready to answer.

"Hey," he croaked. He winced at the sound of his own voice.

"Hey," Pansy gave him a smile that was a little too bright to be entirely genuine. "How are you feeling?" Her pug-like features softened into genuine concern, and caring.  _Good old Pansy,_  thought Draco warmly.

"Like shit," he admitted. "I probably look it, too – don't I? Oh god, I don't want to know what my hair looks like." His tone was mournful, but the other two Slytherins laughed.

"Draco, just be glad you're alive to worry about your hair," Blaise put in. "They say St. Potter saved your life. Again."

_Oh._

That was unexpected, though perhaps it shouldn't have been. His heart warmed a little bit. He wasn't sure if he was more grateful to Potter or more frustrated at owing him yet another life debt.

"So, Draco, is it true?"

He blinked, confused. "I was unconscious. I don't know."

"Not that," Pansy rolled her eyes. "You and St. Potter. You guys are friends now?"

_Is that what he said?_  Draco fought down a wave of disappointment. After all, he and Potter had agreed not to label whatever they were at least until after this date, maybe longer. That Potter called them friends didn't mean he didn't want to be more, just that he was respecting what they'd agreed on until further notice. That said, Draco still couldn't help being the tiniest bit disappointed.

He realised he'd been silent for a while. "Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, it's true."

Pansy crinkled her nose at him. It made her look even more pug-like and he absently made a note to tell her not to do it in the future. "You and Potter… friends? Alright, what does he have on you, Draco?"

"Nothing," Draco said, miffed. "He doesn't have anything on me. We just decided to give the whole inter-house unity thing a whirl."

He could tell by the look on her face that she wasn't buying it.

"It's true." He was starting to feel a little exasperated. No, it wasn't entirely true, but the fact that he had intimate knowledge of just how golden the Golden Boy's blowjobs were – and had treated said Golden Boy to one of his own in return – was no one's business but theirs.

"I don't trust him," Pansy sniffed. "You shouldn't, either, Draco."

Draco wondered if Pansy had always been this overbearing and he just never noticed or if this was a more recent development since he and Potter had started snogging.

"Think what you want," he groused. "Doesn't change the truth."

"Hmmm." Pansy made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. Draco growled, and Blaise laughed.

"At least you're feeling better, Draco," he pointed out, smirking. Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend for a moment before deciding that Blaise wasn't mocking him. At least, not in any ill-meant way.

"So, what exactly happened?" He was dying to know how he'd ended up in the infirmary with Potter having saved his life again.

Pansy and Blaise exchanged a glance. "Death Eater attack," said Blaise, finally.

Draco stiffened. "But why would they? The Dark Lord is dead!"

"Not according to Amycus Carrow, he isn't," put in Pansy. "I was there when the Aurors arrested him. He wouldn't stop yelling that the Dark Lord had returned again and this time would end us all." She shivered.

Draco felt uncomfortable. He was torn between wanting to insist that yes, the Dark Lord was dead and no, he was not coming back, and wanting to be prepared for the worst should it happen.

"So the Death Eaters injured me? Did I hit my head or something? Why can't I remember?"

"Apparently when the window in the Hog's Head blew out the glass slit your throat. You almost bled out before Potter got you to help in time. At least that's the story going around the school." Pansy tapped her chin with her forefinger. "Wouldn't surprise me if St. Potter had embellished his own part in things just to build up his reputation even more."

"Pansy," Draco said evenly. "He saved my life. Can we not insult him?" He was surprised by the feeling of protectiveness he felt towards Potter. Normally he quite enjoyed insulting him, but for some reason right now doing it when Potter wasn't there to be insulted by it seemed a low blow.

Pansy arched a brow at him and Blaise laughed. "Maybe you did hit your head, Draco," he teased. "Either that or Pansy's right and Potter does have something on you. Whatever it is, it must be good."

Draco grumbled and both his friends laughed at him. They stayed and chatted a while longer before leaving for supper in the Great Hall. Draco was given a small meal on a tray. Pansy and Blaise promised to stop by again soon. Madam Pomfrey checked on him and confirmed what Pansy and Blaise had told him about his rescue, giving him a few more details.

"You should be grateful to Mr. Potter," she insisted. "If he hadn't kept a clear head I might never have gotten to you in time. He knew just what to do to save as much time as possible while still getting me there with all the supplies I needed."

He did feel grateful.

Goyle came in after supper. They didn't talk much, he mainly just sat there and grunted at Draco when he said something, but he appreciated the thought. Even Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott visited, grossing Draco out with their public displays of their new coupledom. Daphne Greengrass came in and made a pass at him, which he found mildly disturbing. Not to mention all the visits and gifts he received from people from other houses. He had been virtually shunned before his accident, but clearly, nearly being killed in a Death Eater raid was enough to warrant the sympathies of the Hogwarts populace.

All in all however, Draco was quite relieved when visiting hours were finally over and he was free to go back to sleep.

* * *

Draco woke suddenly. It was dark and he felt disoriented.

"Pansy? Blaise?" He looked around blearily, only to spot Potter appearing out of nowhere.  _The cloak._  "Oh, it's you." He tried to feign disinterest, but it just came out sounding tired as fuck. Which was how he felt.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," Potter spoke up. "Your friends kind of kicked me out." The apology in his voice made Draco smirk.

They proceeded to banter back and forth a bit. Draco learned that Potter knew Pansy thought he was up to something and that he had the corniest lines (and apparently, thought Draco's lips were sinfully snoggable).

"Thank you, Harry," he said to Potter, when Potter's quip reminded him sharply that he had come close to death. He felt almost fervent in his desire to convey what he felt to the messy haired boy sitting beside him.

"You're welcome," Potter gave him a gorgeous lopsided grin and his heart fluttered. "Though I didn't really do much."

"Madam Pomfrey said your quick thinking was the only thing that let her get to me in time. Said I would have bled out if you hadn't kept a clear head." He willed the other boy to understand just what a big deal this was.

"I did what I had to do. I couldn't watch you die, Draco," Potter's voice was so earnest, and there was such tenderness in his eyes, it made Draco's heart speed up immeasurably.

"And for that I thank you," he whispered, marvelling at how steady his voice sounded when every fiber of his being felt like it was shaking under the weight of Potter's gaze. "That's twice now that you've saved me from certain death. First in the Fiendfyre, now here." He needed Potter to understand just how important this was.

Harry leaned forward and kissed him, a kiss that took his breath away. It was a sweet kiss, almost chaste, and it felt more deep and intimate than any sexual encounter Draco had ever had. It practically made his toes curl. When Potter pulled away it took him a moment to school his features, willing himself not to show how deeply such a simple gesture had affected him.

Why Potter," he drawled. "You really are a sentimental sap, aren't you?" He affected amusement, and Potter seemed genuinely hurt by it.

"Just human, is all," he retorted. "I almost had to watch you die, and I was helpless to stop it, because I didn't know any advanced healing spells. I think under the circumstances I'm allowed to be a trifle sentimental."

Draco sobered up again. "I'm sorry," he offered, and Potter gaped. Draco scowled. "I'm allowed to say sorry once in a while, Potter." He felt frustrated with himself, for being so unwilling to be seen as vulnerable that he had hurt Potter.

Potter closed his mouth. "Sorry. It's just… not very like you. What I mean is, I never thought I'd hear you say those words, for any reason." He kept backpedalling, but was apparently only capable of making things worse. Draco felt slightly offended, but considering he was currently frustrated with himself over the same type of thing, his frustration only went so far. "That isn't what I meant." Potter huffed in his own brand of frustration, and Draco's frown turned to an amused smirk.

"Sure it isn't, Potter,' he sneered. This was better. More familiar. Him and Potter digging at one another, egging each other on.

"When did I become Potter again?" Potter sounded quite disappointed. Draco cocked his head at him.

"Force of habit. You saved my life; I guess the least I could do is call you Harry." Potter – Harry – grinned at him, and it was a smile that lit up Draco's whole world. Yes, he decided, it was worthwhile to try and remember to call Potter 'Harry'.

Harry confirmed what Pansy and Blaise had said about the attack being caused by Death Eaters. He also confirmed Amycus Carrow's insistence that the Dark Lord was back.

"He isn't," Harry insisted. "Voldemort's dead, for good this time. He can't possibly come back again." As disturbing as it was to hear that name, Draco was oddly comforted by Harry's assurances.

They switched topics several times and ended up on the subject of Quidditch.

"Puddlemere are a shoe in, Potter – Harry – and you know it."

"I still say that the Harpies have an exceptionally good chance this year."

Draco rolled his eyes. "That's just cause you're a silly little Gryffindork who doesn't know any better. You've been following Quidditch since when? After you started school here? I've been following Quidditch  _my whole life_. Which of us is more qualified to make a judgement on this?"

"Prat," Harry snorted. "Who's been playing Quidditch longer, huh?"

"Low blow, Potter. Low blow."

"How is that a low blow?" protested Harry. "I didn't say anything about you!"

"You practically cheated your way onto the team that first year, and you know if it wasn't for me you never would have ended up a seeker, at least not that quickly."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, almighty Malfoy, for you altered my destiny and shaped my life."

"Damn right," Draco sniffed.

The boys grinned at each other, when suddenly Draco cried out. He yanked his sleeve back. "Harry!" he cried, holding up his forearm. The mark was black. He could see his own horror reflected on Harry's face.

Pain flared in his arm again and he bit back a scream. He twisted and writhed in the sheets and was vaguely aware of Harry calling for Madam Pomfrey. He felt Harry move to get up and leave and grabbed his arm.

"Stay," he choked out.

Harry stayed.

He needed Harry there with him. He wasn't even sure why, just that somehow he wanted the idiot Gryffindor, the stupid Boy-Who-Lived-Not-Once-But-Twice, the dumb speccy git with the greenest eyes he'd ever seen.

Pain burned through him. It turned his blood to lava and flowed through his veins like fire. He was vaguely aware of someone screaming, and that it seemed to be him. He couldn't stop. He needed to respond, to go to the Dark Lord. It was the only thing that would make the pain go away.

His world finally, mercifully, went black.

* * *

When Draco regained consciousness it was just getting light outside. Harry was still sitting in the chair by his bedside, his head laying on the bed beside Draco and his hand firmly clasping Draco's. It eased his terror somewhat to have Harry there, to know he had stayed with him through the pain.

"Harry?" He was still frightened, still wanting comfort. Harry stirred beside him. "Harry?" he repeated.

"Draco?" Harry yawned. "Hey… how you feeling?"

Draco smirked weakly. "Great, Potter. Like I almost died then got tortured for a while. Just great."

Harry looked pained. "I'm sorry, Draco. I really am. I'm going to find out what's going on and put a stop to it – I swear. No one will be able to use this to hurt you again." He gestured to Draco's forearm.

Draco shook his head. "It's him, Harry. I don't know how but it is. No one else can summon us with the Mark like that. It's him." He tried to stem the tide of panic that rose up within him.

"It can't be. We destroyed all his Horcruxes. He was mortal and vulnerable."

"You must have missed one."

Harry stilled. The possibility of an additional Horcrux had never occurred to him. Dumbledore had said that this was all there were, and Harry had believed him. But what if Dumbledore had been wrong?

Harry shifted uneasily in his seat. What if it was because he was still alive? What if for Voldemort to be defeated, he needed to die as well? What if there was no way out of that King's Cross Station he'd found himself in?

"Harry?"

He forced a smile. "It's going to be alright, Draco," he promised with a certainty he didn't feel.

Draco snorted. "Please, Harry. I've been watching you since I was eleven years old; I can spot a fake smile a mile away."

Harry chuckled. He and the blond certainly had history. His stomach clenched at the thought of never getting to explore where that might lead them.

"I was a Horcrux," he said softly, staring at the floor, still Holding Draco's hand. He heard Draco's inrush of breath at the words. He was giving an explanation that he and his friends had kept as a closely guarded secret.

"I was a Horcrux, and I had to die in order for Voldemort to be destroyed. That's why I survived the killing curse a second time. The Horcrux died, and while I died too, I got to come back."

Draco stared. "You died?" he asked, hesitantly.

Harry nodded. "It was… strange."

His grip on Harry's hand tightened. "I'll bet."

"I was just wondering if this is not how it's supposed to be." Harry hesitated, then plowed on. "If I'm supposed to be dead for Voldemort to stay dead."

"No." The word cut through his thoughts like a sword. It was sharp, quick, decisive. "Don't you dare, Harry James Potter. Don't you even dare. That's not true and you know it."

"It could be."

"Get Granger to research it then," Draco snapped. "That's what she's good at, right?"

Harry shifted again. "I just thought of it. And… she doesn't need this. She's already been through so much… I can look into it on my own."

"Harry James Potter," his voice quivered in fury. "Don't. You. Dare. You tell Granger and the others and you let them help you. Don't you dare go sacrificing yourself for nothing. And if you don't tell them, I will."

"Alright!" Harry all but shouted. He felt slightly betrayed by the blond's behaviour. He supposed it was really all his fault though. He quieted, remembering the other patients in their beds and Madam Pomfrey in her room nearby. "You're such a prat sometimes."

"Only because you're a git. A speccy one."

Harry tried not to smile. "Berk."

"Poof."

"You're insufferable."

"Then you're a glutton for punishment."

They both grinned.

They fell back into easy banter, and were soon finishing the argument they'd had the day before about Quidditch teams. They talked through breakfast, until Harry had to leave for his first class of the day.

Draco was informed that the Aurors and the Headmistress would be wanting to speak with him soon about his Mark and the summons that had occurred the previous night. He sighed and resigned himself to it.

* * *

"Draco, darling!"

"Pansy."

"How are you feeling?" Pansy sat next to him on the bed.

"Alright, Madam Pomfrey says I should be able to leave today, she just wants to observe me a little longer." Draco shrugged. He hesitated. "The Mark burned last night, Pans."

She stared wide-eyed. "Dray… you know what that means."

"Of course I know!" Draco looked away miserably. "What I don't know is what to do about it. The Aurors don't know either. Not even Harry knows."

Pansy stared at him for a long minute. "Spill, Draco. What's going on with Potter?"

"What makes you think something's going on with Potter?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "First, you agreed to be  _friends_  with him. You  _hate_  him. Second, you're mentioning him by his first name as if it's the most natural thing in the world."

Draco silently cursed Harry for insisting on first names. The fact that he had insisted on Harry using his own first name was conveniently forgotten.

"Well, that's what friends do, Pansy. And we really have agreed to be friends."

"Bullshit." Pansy cocked an eyebrow at him. "Tell me why."

Draco sighed. He knew Pansy, and he knew that she wasn't going to let up until she had the truth from him. "No telling anyone, even Blaise?"

She nodded, clearly pleased with herself. "Witch's honour."

"We're sort of… dating. I think. It's hard to quantify at this point."

Pansy stared for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Nice one, Dray! You had me going there for a minute!"

"I'm serious."

"But Dray, you're  _straight_. I know you're straight. You can't make me fall for something like that."

"Apparently I'm not all that straight," muttered Draco, looking anywhere but at Pansy. "In fact, I can say that I'm definitely  _not_  straight. I have proof." He'd die before admitting his proof was that he'd sucked Potter's cock and liked it. Some things even Pansy didn't need to know.

Pansy stared at him again. "Merlin, you're serious!" She gaped. He nodded, flushing madly.

Pansy threw her head back and laughed, long and loud.  
"Shhh!" protested Draco. "Everyone's looking at us!"

Pansy toned it down, but continued to let out periodic chuckles. "So, you're shagging the Chosen One?"

Draco flushed even darker. "Keep it down!" he hissed.

Pansy just shook her head. "I never would have thought… I guess all those fights you two had were just sexual frustration building up, and I wrong?" She eyed him mockingly and he regretted very much for a moment letting Pansy Parkinson in on his big secret.

"I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. "I just know that I can't get the speccy git out of my head. He turns me on like no one's ever done before, and when we talk we actually get on pretty well. We still insult each other a lot, we just don't take offense."

Pansy smirked. "Sounds like you've got it bad."

"I do not!" Draco coloured again, the ruddy blush staining his normally pale cheeks. "I just… I like the sex. The sex is good."

He nodded, as if convinced. Pansy was less so.

"If you say so, darling."

"Well now," Pansy leaned forward. "We're going to have to come up with a plan to make Potter fall for you."

"What? Why would I want Potter to fall for me?" protested Draco, trying not to think of a smitten Harry and how lovely that might be.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "You want the sex to continue, right?" Draco nodded. "Well, he's a Gryffindork. He's not going to be happy for long unless his feelings get involved. So snare his feelings and you get to keep him around."

Draco had to admit this was an appealing prospect.

He leaned forward. "What are you thinking, Pans?"

* * *

Draco sauntered down the corridor, wondering where Harry was. Probably in the Great Hall, he reflected, and wondered if he should go there and grab a bite to eat. He changed direction, but continued to move at a leisurely pace. His thoughts were a jumble of the last 48 hours, and all they had entailed.

He thought about how he'd nearly died, and Harry had saved him again.

He thought about the Mark on his arm, which had faded to look like a scar after the Dark Lord had been defeated, but now stood out in stark relief, as dark and clear as the day it was inked. He thought of how it had burned and tortured him for neglecting to answer the summons.

He thought about Pansy, and her ideas for ensnaring Harry's affections, and her insistence that Draco was falling for the Golden Boy. Which he wasn't. That was just ridiculous. Absurd.

He thought of Harry; his green, green eyes framed by those idiotic glasses, the way they crinkled in the corners when he laughed, and his wild black hair, looking like it had been through its own personal tornado all the time, the way he'd run his fingers through it when he was nervous.

He thought of Harry's perfectly shaped pink lips, full and rosy and the way he'd bite them, worrying the bottom lip with his teeth when he was thinking. Of the way his nose would wrinkle just a bit when he sneered out "Prat!" or some other such insult, but the light in his eyes betraying an affection that belied his words. The way emotions were raw and open and exposed on his stupid Gryffindor face. The way you could tell just what he was thinking with a glance into his eyes, the hidden depths swirling about in those pools of green enough to drown in.

He caught himself smiling absently as he walked through the halls and he stopped suddenly, surprised at himself.

"Ah, young love," crooned a portrait of an old woman knowingly.

Draco scowled and stuck his tongue out at her. It wasn't terribly mature, but it made him feel better.

_Bah._ He glared at all the portraits around him, as if daring them to comment further. He would entrap Harry with his cunning and his Slytherinness, and Harry would be the one in love, not him.  _Young love indeed._

He nodded his head with satisfaction, and proceeded to the Great Hall for supper.

 


	5. The Misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry confides in his ex. Draco misunderstands.

**Chapter Five:** The Misunderstanding

 **Disclaimer:** All characters belong to J.K.R. I pay them cookies to be my dirty little whores.

 **Warnings:**  Slight slash. Brief blowjoby scene. Language.

 **A/N:** I am so, so sorry that this took so long! I had writer's block and then I was doing a bunch of Head Canons as a trial admin at a FB page. (I'm a fully fledged admin now! Check it out, it's:  **We Are The Potter Generation. We Ship Drarry.** ) I promise not to go so long without an update in the future. Even if it means posting a shorter chapter.

HOWEVER I  **PROMISE**  there is smut in the next chapter. To make it up to you guys. 3

Also, I discovered that I had Crabb mentioned as though he was alive in the last chapter. Oops. I fixed it, and let's all just pretend that didn't happen, mmmk? ;)

Now, I'd like to thank  **VenustusLovesJames, TheOnlyCeeCeeJay, DragonLover9865rlassie, Daddy's crazy little bitch, Tenshi Yami-Angel of Darkness, Rufescent, dXrXaXrXrXy,** and **trollnexus,**  for commenting. :) Thanks to everyone who favourited and followed, as well! :D I love you all! 3

* * *

  
_Guess it was not meant to be_   
_But it's not as bad as it seems_   
_It only burns when I breathe, yeah_   


  
_You saw the way that I fell_   
_But I'm better off by myself_   
_That's the tale I like to tell, yeah_   


  
_But it's not that easy for me to say goodbye_   
_And everything in me, wants you back in my life_   


  
_Can't let you go_   
_Can't let you go, oh_   


_Can't Let You Go - Adam Lambert_

* * *

"Harry, what's up with you and Malfoy?"

Harry glanced at Hermione and sighed. He should have known that if anyone would be suspicious of his story that he and Malfoy had become friends, it would be her. Although Ron was convinced he was under a spell. He supposed that where Draco was concerned it would be too much to hope that there would be someone on his side.

"Nothing, Mione," he answered, as usual. "We're friends. I know it's a hard concept to wrap your head around, but trust me, it's true." He almost believed it himself, now, he'd said it do many times. "Now can I eat in peace?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't push. Ginny, on the other hand, looked devious, and it made Harry nervous. She was the one person he did  _not_ want to have a conversation with about this. Ron just muttered about ferrets and continued stuffing his face.

It was as he was leaving the Great Hall that he was trapped. An arm snaked out, from an alcove behind a hanging banner as he walked by, yanking him into it and a quick hand over his mouth kept him from crying out. He looked into Ginny's eyes and resigned himself. Like it or not, this conversation was happening.

"Alright, Harry," she challenged, eyes narrowed into slits, "You. Malfoy. What's going on? And don't," as he opened his mouth to regurgitate the friends story, "Tell me you're just friends. I saw the way you looked at him, the way you held his hand. Spill."

Harry sighed. He had known from the moment that he said they were friends in the hospital wing and Ginny's eyes had narrowed at him that she had an idea of what was going on.

After all, Ginny was the one who had figured him out. Not Hermione. Not Ron. Ginny. When he went to talk to her after the war about the possibility of them getting back together and she had suggested they worked better as brother and sister he'd been shocked. Then she'd cocked her head and looked at him in puzzlement. "But Harry," she'd asked. "Aren't you sort of…  _gay_?"

He of course had denied it and been horrified and was subsequently launched into a very confusing time of questioning his sexuality. After a few weeks of mentally going in circles he'd finally gone back to talk to Ginny, and she'd enlightened him on all the reasons she had for believing him gay.

"There's all the times I tried to hint to you that we could have sex, for one," Ginny pointed out, proceeding to give him detailed recaps of her failed seduction attempts.

"I could do it," he protested. "I could have sex with you. And like it," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Prove it," she'd challenged, and he tried to. "Tried" being the operative word. The encounter left him feeling wholly ashamed and embarrassed and more than a little certain that she was right. And the whole thing had left her unbearably smug.

"And then, there's the way you used to ogle Malfoy's arse," she added loftily.

"I did not!" Harry declared hotly.

"Did so. It bothered me a lot back in sixth year, because if your obsession with him really was because he was up to something and no more, what did his arse have to do with it?"

He sputtered indignantly and she laughed. "You still do it," she informed him. "I don't even think you realise it. You just ogle the prat whenever he's around. It's unnerving. But you fancy him, Harry."

Harry of course denied it vehemently. Maybe he was sort of kind of gay. He could handle that. He could even sort of see it. Oliver Wood was hot, and he could appreciate that. There were plenty of blokes he'd found rather fit over the years, though he'd been too busy worrying about his survival to read anymore into it. In fact, once he'd accepted it, it made a whole lot of sense, and improved his enjoyment of his wanking sessions. But fancying Malfoy? No way. No sir. Not in a million years. Not even if the prat had an arse you could bounce a knut off of.

And of course, Ginny never gave up. She teased him mercilessly about the blond, insisting she would let up only when Harry was honest about his feelings. And then the incident in the stacks had happened and now he was forced to admit that she was right; he did fancy Malfoy, and probably had for a long time. And now he was going to have to admit it to her face. Bother.

He looked her in the eyes and sighed, seeing nothing but honest caring in their hazel depths. "You tell anyone about this, Gin, and I swear…" he left the threat hanging, not having anything to add he'd be willing to follow through on.

She smirked, looking very Slytherin. "Go on."

"Draco and I… we're sort of dating."

Ginny squealed and threw her arms around his neck. "Harry, that's wonderful! But why lie about it?"

"Because we just went on our first date. We're not even officially dating yet, and we don't want anyone to know until we're sure ourselves that this is what we want."

"But Harry," Ginny laid a hand on his arm. "This is what you want. It's what you've wanted for a long time."

"Yeah, I guess," he admitted, feeling more miserable for the admission. "But I don't know where Draco stands. I don't know what he wants from me."

"Harry James Potter," Ginny put her hands on her hips, a feat in their small enclosed hiding space. "You defeated a dark lord, the most powerful, evil and dangerous wizard of our times. Don't tell me that you're going to let fear interfere in your love life, now." Her eyes blazed and he flushed.

"I don't know that I defeated him, Gin," he said after a pause. "He might have come back again." Ginny blinked at him, then frowned.

"You know what I mean, Harry Potter," she said, poking him in the chest with her finger. "Get out there and get your wizard!" She gave him a playful shove and they stumbled out of the alcove.

He laughed. "Thanks, Gin." He seized her in a tight hug which she returned, smiling broadly. He felt lighter than he had in a while. He chuckled, then glanced up and his eyes met the steely grey of Draco's.

Draco just stared at him with an unreadable expression on his face, then turned and stalked away.

"Oh, no," murmured Ginny as Harry broke away from her.

"Draco, wait," he called, but the blond had disappeared.

* * *

Pansy was primping. Blaise had been giving her appraising looks lately, and she had decided to take advantage of the fact that he had given up on Draco – for the most part – and turned his attention back to the female populace. After all, now that Draco was shagging Potter, he was unavailable to cater to her needs, and damnit, Pansy needed to get laid.

Draco burst into her room without preamble. The girls' and boys' dormitories in the Eighth Year Tower were, unlike the other dormitories, not very well protected against invasions from the opposite sex. This meant a lot of sneaking around and inter-house fraternization that brought them a lot closer to unity than anything else would have, though McGonagall would certainly have disapproved.

Draco was breathing heavily, as if he'd just come from a run. He looked slightly disheveled, and Pansy thought privately that it was a good look on him. She regretted again for a moment that he was shagging St. Potter, and was unavailable to shag herself, like they had in the past.

He took one look at her, and without a word stepped up and grabbed her, pulling her close and snogging the breath out of her.

For a moment she tensed, then relaxed into it. Merlin, Draco was a good kisser. He snogged like there was no tomorrow. She let out a low moan as he eased her towards her bed, straddling her on top of her covers. He began kissing her neck, nipping softly and licking at her collarbone and making her arch her back and… this was wrong. No, Draco was shagging Potter, and this was all wrong. She'd seen the look in his eyes earlier when he spoke about his former nemesis, and he had it bad. He wouldn't be doing this unless something was wrong.

What's more, he was shaking; shaking violently, shaking as if with repressed sobs. Something was definitely wrong.

It was with great effort that she straightened and pushed him away. He growled and tried to continue, but she held firm. "Draco," she gasped. "What's gotten into you? What about Potter?"

With those words he suddenly slumped against her, defeated. He lay there, breathing raggedly, and she stroked small circles into his back. Her eyes narrowed. Potter had done something to hurt her Dray. He would pay for that.

"What happened, Dray?" she crooned. "Tell me, sweetie, what's going on?"

"I caught him snogging the Weaselette, Pans," muttered Draco. He had his face buried in her shoulder, and she felt soft tears falling through her shirt. She hoped absently that he wouldn't get snot on her as well; the tears a simple drying spell could fix but snot would require a cleaning charm and she was pants at those.

"Snogging the Weaselette?" she repeated, horrified.

"Yes." Draco laughed, bitterly. "A Malfoy, thrown over for a Weasley." He paused. "Again." The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

"What do you mean, 'again'?" Pansy's voice was sharp.

"First on the train when I was eleven, now this."

Pansy drew in her breath. She knew how deeply Draco had been hurt by Potter's rejection of him all those years ago; she was one of the few people privy to his private pain.

"I'll kill him," she muttered. "I'll kill that Bastard-Who-Lived until he's the Bastard-Who's-Dead."

Draco laughed into her shoulder and she smiled. He would be alright. She'd take care of him, and he would be alright. And then, she would find Potter, and make him pay for hurting her best friend.

* * *

"Draco."

His name was a whisper, a caress on the wind. He shivered, naked in the moonlight. He was lying on his back beneath a willow tree by the great lake. The giant squid splashed in the distance. Otherwise the night was silent.

His lover ghosted kisses across his torso, fingers tracing gently over his pale skin, making him writhe and moan.

"Draco," the voice repeated, louder this time. Dark, messy hair was all he could see of his lover, who continued his ministrations to Draco's chest and nipples.

"Yes?" he gasped as first one nipple then the other was suckled gently in his lover's mouth.

Soft laughter.

His lover looked up, and green eyes bored into his as Harry took his cock into his mouth. Draco arched his back and mewled at the sudden sensation of wet, warm mouth enveloping his rock-hard cock.

Harry's talented tongue swirled and licked and teased his slit. Draco bucked and thrust upwards into the willing heat, lost in the headiness of it.

"Harry!" he cried. "Oh, Harry!"

"Draco!" the voice was more insistent now, and suddenly Draco realised it didn't come from his lover. His lover was sitting up, wiping his mouth, looking into the distance.

A redheaded girl approached and beckoned to him. Without another thought he leapt to his feet, and chased after her.

"Harry!" screamed Draco, reaching for him in horror. "Harry!" He raced out from behind the willow branches, unheeding his nakedness, looking frantically for them, and not seeing them anywhere.

Soft laughter came again on the wind.

"Draco!"

Draco sat bolt upright in bed, panting. His dormmates stared at him in concern. Blaise was hovering over him, his hand on Draco's shoulder.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You were thrashing in your sleep and shouting for Potter," Blaise frowned. "You were calling him, 'Harry'." He was looking for an explanation.

"Sorry I disturbed your rest," mumbled Draco. He had no intention of explaining. Not now, at any rate. He knew Blaise wouldn't let it go until he knew the story, but now was not the time. Not with Nott and Goyle there, listening in.

Blaise's eyes widened at the apology, but he dropped it and returned to his bed. Draco rolled over and prepared for another sleepless night.

* * *

Draco spent the next few weeks in his room, except for classes. Every time he ventured out of his room his friends rallied around him and surrounded him like a shield, protecting him from Potter, keeping the hero from getting too close.

They didn't know what had happened, just that Draco had tried to be friends with Potter and Potter had betrayed him. That Draco wanted to avoid Potter at all costs. They eagerly rallied around their leader, and the Ice Prince of Slytherin once more held court.

He stayed in his room most meals to save them hassle, and Pansy just brought him and herself up plates of food and they ate together in his dorm. They would sit and joke and talk and snark and Draco could almost feel normal again for a little while.

He was hurting, worse than anything he could remember, other than having his parents' lives hanging over his head when he was sixteen. Other than being forced to _Crucio_  others on the Dark Lord's command. Okay, there were a lot of things in his life that had hurt this badly. But that didn't make it any easier to live with.

Potter, the git, was determined to track him down for some reason.  _He probably isn't done playing with me, yet_ , thought Draco. The thought depressed him.

He and Pansy would make conversation and gossip. Pansy was, despite her average grades, absolutely brilliant. He'd often pointed out that if she ever studied, she could probably beat Granger. Pansy, however had no interest in beating Granger, preferring to turn her wicked mind to social and societal manipulation.

He learned that it was she who had orchestrated Millicent and Theodore's romance, all without their awareness of her ever having part in it.

"It was so easy, Dray," she crowed. "All it took was a suggestion here, a makeover there, and finally me and Blaise accidentally losing them in Hogsmeade. They were together before you knew it!"

"You're a genius, Pans," Draco assured her.

"Oh, I know that," she rolled her eyes. "I can fix anyone up with anyone!"

She then offered to help him replace Potter, but he just wasn't there yet.

"Maybe later, Pans. Right now I'm just so confused."

Draco was dealing with a sexual orientation crisis. He'd never been attracted to guys before, or really even thought about them sexually. But Potter was different. And now Draco needed to figure out whether or not that was because Potter was a guy and Draco really was bisexual, or if it was just because it was Potter.

Potter was all he could think about. When he wanked, he tried so hard to think of someone else – anyone else would do. But Potter's face would intrude on his subconscious, and Potter's body would be all that he could see. Even in his dreams he saw Potter. Always Potter, and no one else.

Maybe Draco was Pottersexual.

He didn't like that idea.

Pansy tried to get him to kiss Blaise to find out if he liked it or not, but he explained to her – much to her bewilderment – that the idea of kissing anyone who wasn't Potter repulsed him. Hence his misery.

Pansy and Blaise were sympathetic, but both of them wanted in his pants, and for some reason, it was no longer an option. He may have been free, and he may have even slept with Pansy in the past, but now he simply didn't want sexual contact with non-Potter-people. Blaise was particularly put out, as his advances had been spurned for years on the grounds that Draco was straight, only to have him turn bent with Potter and then not want to turn to Blaise for comfort afterwards. Blaise felt it truly unfair.

And it wasn't that he wasn't good looking. Draco knew he was. But he just wasn't Potter.

Draco wondered if he was going insane.

* * *

Harry was frustrated. He'd spent the last few weeks trying to track down Draco. He needed to explain there was nothing going on between him and Ginny. He could tell Draco had gotten the wrong idea; and even he could admit it looked bad. He didn't know how to fix this, because Draco seemed as determined to avoid him as he was to find the Slytherin.

He couldn't visit Draco in his dorm, because the Slytherin had invested in powerful locking spells, and he couldn't speak to him through the door, because he could hear the Slytherin cast a silencing charm on him whenever he tried.

Draco's friends were no help. Pansy glared daggers at him and made threats about castration hexes that had him keeping his distance. Blaise regarded him with cold fury and both of them refused to listen to a word he had to say. Goyle glared at him and left him quaking in his boots.

Draco was always surrounded in the Great Hall, his fellow Slytherins an impenetrable fortress around him, refusing to let Harry near. Oftentimes Pansy Parkinson would simply fill a plate with food and whisk it away to bring upstairs to Draco, so he wouldn't have to come down.

Harry was going mad.

All of his friends knew there was something going on with him and Malfoy, that the blond was angry with him and he was trying to fix it. None of them knew the particulars except Ginny, who had quickly become his rock during this horrible mess.

They were talking about it in the common room one day after supper. Sitting by the fire on bronze cushions , eating chocolate frogs and playing exploding snap. Ron and Hermione were off somewhere alone together and Harry did  _not_  want to think about what they were up to, thankyouverymuch.

"I don't know what to do," he said helplessly. "I've tried everything I can think of, but he just won't listen to me. If he just gave me a chance, he might understand. But how can I even get that chance if he's so closed off?"

"Don't worry, Harry," she said, squeezing his hand. "It'll all work out. Malfoy will have to listen to you at some point, and when he does he'll realise this whole thing was a misunderstanding and he'll let it go."

"I hope you're right, Gin," he said morosely. "I hope you're right." He squeezed her hand again and shot her a grateful smile.

Of course it would be at that moment that Draco and his contingent of body guards walked by on their way to drop Draco off in his room. His face tightened at the sight of their joined hands and although Harry leapt up and tried to talk to him, Draco cast a _Silencio_  on him and continued on his way.

This whole mess was on top of the endless research he, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna were doing together. In the past it had always been the Golden Trio, but now their ranks had swollen, and Harry was grateful for it. The extra help made things move along faster, though they still hadn't had much luck in finding out anything new about the Horcruxes.

Trying to discover how Voldemort could still be alive, or how someone could be manipulating a bond only he should have had control over, was taxing. Trying to prove that Harry didn't have to be dead in order for Voldemort to stay gone was proving impossible. There were no records of a human being being a Horcrux before. It was territory that research didn't seem able to help with.

The Death Eater attacks continued, in other towns around the country. The Aurors did their best to combat it, but it was difficult, not knowing where to expect them next. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their attacks other than to cause panic and spread fear.

And it was working. Across the country people were panicking, screaming and crying over the return of "He Who Must Not Be Named". The Daily Prophet printed a particularly scathing review of Harry called, "The Boy Who Lied" which insinuated Harry had faked Voldemort's demise in the hope of increasing his own fame.

Of course, the Hogwarts students had all learned by now not to trust what was printed in the newspaper, particularly with regard to Harry, but there were thousands of people across the country who were less savvy. Harry was once again becoming a social pariah in the wizarding world.

The Dark Marks continued to be used to call Death Eaters, and every Death Eater captured said the same thing – "He's back."

From what they heard, Draco Malfoy ended up in the hospital wing several other times over the course of those few weeks when his Mark burned and he was being called. Harry had tried to go see him but he had given explicit instructions ahead of time not to let Harry near him. Madam Pomfrey gave him sympathetic looks, but she respected her patient's wishes and kept him out.

Once he was there when the Mark began to burn. Pansy and Blaise levitated Draco to the hospital wing from his room, while he writhed and screamed. Harry's mouth had gone dry and he'd moved closer, begging to be allowed to help comfort the blond.

With a scowl and a "Not now, Potter," he'd been rebuffed and when he persisted Pansy had proceeded to whirl around and hex with a  _Confundus_. He had wandered around confused and rambling about Draco – "Crazy talk, mate; just crazy," Ron had assured him after, while Ginny snickered and refused to comment. He wondered how much of the truth had come out during his little episode.

He missed Draco like a phantom limb.

He missed kissing him, touching him, being held by him.

He missed the soft blond hair that fell about his face just so.

He missed the fine, aristocratic turn of his features.

He missed his pale skin, missed running his hands over it underneath Draco's clothes.

He missed talking to the prat, the way he joked and the way he carried himself with that air of superiority that Harry quickly learned was mostly just show.

He missed the Slytherin's ideas and snarky opinions.

He just missed Draco.

He wanted to tell everyone about them. He longed to just put it out there, so Draco would understand that he was Harry's number one, and only one. He ached to just scream to the world what they'd had together.

Except that he didn't know what they'd had together, not really. Some quick gropes, a few passionate snogs, a couple of blow jobs and a disastrous date?

Never mind that it had been mind-blowing, all of it, and that the time he spent with Draco – even when they weren't snogging – was better than the time he'd spent with anyone else, ever.

The only thing that really held him back in the end was the knowledge that Draco hadn't wanted anyone else to know about them, and he didn't want to make things worse by spreading the news. Draco would surely hate him for that.

Fortunately for him Hermione was missing for the most part during his confusion, busy in the library doing more research on the Horcruxes, and he was able to avoid her sharp mind picking up on the fact that his crazy talk about Draco Malfoy might be less than crazy.

She found something, one day, and they all got very excited over it.

"Look, here," she said, pointing out a page to her friends. They all crowded around to read.

"What are we reading about?" asked Neville, wanting clarification.

"The Marks, and ways they might be controlled by someone other than Voldemort."

"So where are we reading?"

Hermione pointed to a passage in the giant tome she'd located far back in the restricted section. "Here."

_"The mark of ownership may only be manipulated by the owner. However, there are certain circumstances which may allow another to access the power of the mark._

_The owner must be dead._

_The other must also be marked._

_The other must have strong will, and strong magic._

_The other must contain the essence of the owner._

_If these criteria are met, the bond of ownership may pass to the other. Although it is possible in theory, in fact it has never been done successfully, and attempts have inevitably resulted in the death of all bond-mates."_

Although they weren't certain what it meant, one thing they did know was that it signified that Voldemort was not necessarily back.

They now knew that rather than facing Voldemort again, it was possible that they were facing a Death Eater who was strong-willed, magically powerful, and "contained the essence of the owner" – whatever that meant.

However, nothing was certain. There was also a very good chance that it was Voldemort. After all, the tome had specified that no one had ever successfully transferred an ownership bond before; that it was only possible in theory. That all attempts to do so usually left the bond-mates dead. Voldemort having had another, hidden Horcrux was far more likely.

They had to prepare for every contingency.

When it came to research on the Horcruxes, Harry was becoming increasingly convinced that his life would have to be sacrificed to kill Voldemort for good.

Harry's friends made him swear that he wouldn't even consider sacrificing his life unless they had no other option and had reason to believe it would work. They reminded him that there wasn't yet any definitive proof that Voldemort was back.

They weren't entirely satisfied with the promise, having wanted him to simply agree not to sacrifice himself period, but they accepted it as the best compromise they would get from him. Harry privately thought that there was already reason to think it would work, and wondered absently if it wasn't better for Draco in the long run to have been chased away from him.

Hermione was becoming relentless in her pursuit of discovering the reason behind his falling out with Draco. She cornered him at every opportunity, whenever they weren't doing research and discussing Voldemort and the dark mark they were running in circles around each other verbally; Hermione pushing for answers, Harry hastening to elude her.

She finally cornered him in the library, near his and Draco's special place. He had wandered there to torture himself with memories and mope. He also held out a vain hope that Draco might have gone there as well.

"Spill," Hermione demanded.

He blustered and tried to leave, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest, shoving him back against the bookcase and she drew her wand out. "I'll bind you if I have to, but so help me, you are going to talk to me, Harry James Potter."

He thought she was bluffing and made to leave; she murmured, " _Incarcerous_ ," and he was suddenly bound to the bookshelf behind him. She then cast a silencing charm around them so that Harry could scream for help all he liked; Madam Pince wouldn't hear a thing.

"Tell me," she said evenly. "What's going on with you and Malfoy?"

Harry glared at her, but realising he couldn't get away without telling the truth, decided to go for maximum shock value.

"I'm in love with Draco Malfoy," he blurted.


	6. Sleepwalker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The misunderstanding gets resolved.

 

 

**Chapter Six:** Sleepwalker

**Disclaimer:**  Jo Rowlings' wee innocent babes are corrupted at my hands. Bwahaha! I do not own them, which makes their corruption all the sweeter.

**Warnings:**  Slash. Language. Boy on boy action. Lots of it. Don't like gay sex? Don't read this chapter. (Though wtf are you doing reading this story in that case?)

**A/N:**  So this didn't turn out quite like I planned. I actually had all but the last little bit of this chapter finished a week ago, but I intended to write a bunch of fluffy banter and stick it at the end... instead we got the current ending. I like it though. I think it'll do. Thank you to everyone who's read and followed, favorited, or reviewed! :D Special thanks to  **VenustusLovesJames, TheOnlyCeeCeeJ, Tenshi Yami - Angel of Darkness, rlassie, Daddy's little crazy bitch, WolfAndWhitlock, iBeSaltyDrarry, voicelessliar, Dusk, Farrangirl11,** and **masonxoxo**  for their reviews! :D

* * *

  
_Outside the rain's fallin' down_   
_There's not a drop that hits me_   
_Scream at the sky but no sound_   
_Is leavin' my lips_   
_It's like I can't even feel_   
_After the way you touched me_   
_I'm not asleep but I'm not awake_   
_After the way you loved me_

_Sleepwalker - Adam Lambert_

* * *

_ _

* * *

Draco was moping. He'd been hiding from Potter for days, eluding him at every turn, waiting for the git to get the message and give up. It wasn't like he'd been serious about Draco.

That was the kicker, realising only when he'd had that cold reality thrust into his face that he himself had been serious about the berk. He'd been halfway to falling in love with him only to get his heart smashed.

Pansy was his comfort, his confidant. Even Blaise was helpful, though he kept trying to convince Draco to have a shag with him to "get over it", since apparently he wasn't as straight as he'd always claimed. Draco thought about it. It might be a good idea, make him forget about Potter. Harry. He'd wanted to do that when he first sought out Pansy, desperate for comfort, seething with anger, and overflowing with hurt.

But now he just ached. It was so intense he couldn't deal with it. When he thought of shagging he thought of Potter and he couldn't take the idea of anyone else touching him. He hated it.

He wondered how long he'd harboured feelings for the cretin. How many years had those emotions been buried? Since Potter saved him from Fiendfyre? Since he'd seen Potter in the Manor and realised that he couldn't identify him; he just couldn't do it? Since he'd first seen Potter in flight, soaring like a magnificent bird, graceful and artful and awe-inspiring? Since that moment on the train, when he'd felt his heart stop as he was rejected for the first time in his life? Or since that day in Madam Malkin's, when he's met a scuffy-looking, black haired, green eyed ragamuffin that for some reason appealed to him, and made him want to be friends?

Draco didn't have any answers. His whole life, ever since the boy had come into it, seemed to have revolved around Harry Bloody Potter.

He went to their place, where they'd always met in the stacks. It was torture, but he ached to be with Harry and this was the closest he could get without degrading himself. He was leaning against the shelf, eyes closed, soaking up the memories, when he heard a shrill voice on the other side of the shelf he leaned on.

"I'll bind you if I have to, but so help me, you are going to talk to me, Harry James Potter."

It was Granger. He stiffened. He heard Harry growl, on the other side of the stack, just a shelf's width between them, and swallowed hard. He heard Granger cast, " _Incarcerous,"_ and  _"Muffliato"._ He leaned against the stack, against his better judgement, and listened. Harry was bound; he couldn't move. As long as Draco stayed where he was he could hear Harry's voice, and no one would be the wiser. His pride could stay intact.

Granger said, "Tell me what's going on with you and Malfoy." His breath caught, and he had to work to keep from making any noise. Nothing could have prepared him for what came next.

"I'm in love with Draco Malfoy," came Harry's voice, and his heart stopped.

The simplicity of the statement, the earnestness with which it was given, made it hard for Draco to believe it was untrue. But he knew what he'd seen; memories of Harry stumbling out of the alcove from behind the hanging blushing and laughing with the Weaselette, before enveloping her in a close hug, tormented him and kept him from running to Harry.

"What?" squeaked Granger, and Draco knew she hadn't quite been prepared to hear that.

"I'm in love with Draco Malfoy," Harry repeated. "And I probably have been for quite some time."

Granger squeaked and stuttered for a moment and Draco couldn't understand what she was saying.

Apparently Harry could. "Mione," he said patiently. "I'm gay. It's why Ginny and I didn't get back together. I have no interest in girls whatsoever." He laughed. "Trust me, Mione, if I was going to be interested in a girl at all it would be Ginny. But I'm not and I can't be and that's the end of it. Ginny's tremendously supportive, and she's been after me to pursue Malfoy for the last six months."

Draco listened in shock.

Harry had no interest in girls?

The Weaselette had been after him to pursue Draco?

Harry actually did love him?

He heard Granger squeaking some more unintelligible questions and pressed his ear against the bookcase so as not to miss Harry's answers.

Harry continued. "Draco and I… we were sort of dating. But not really. Not yet. We were on our first date when everything went to hell and he ended up in the infirmary." He sighed.

"He got out while Ginny was confronting me in an alcove behind one of the hangings – you know the one between the Great Hall and the infirmary? Anyway, she was confronting me about what was going on, and I fessed up. She was really happy for me. We stepped out of the alcove, and I gave her a big hug to thank her for her support, and Draco was there. He saw us and totally misunderstood. And now I can't find the prat to tell him what happened and make him understand that there's no one else for me!" He ended on a fierce, hurt and angry note.

Draco stared in wonder. It was so simple, yet had never occurred to him. He moved away from the shelf, carried by the burning desire in him to see Harry again – for he was Harry, no more of this "Potter" nonsense – and rounded the corner. Granger was standing with her arms folded across her chest, speaking to Harry in a low voice, and Harry was bound to the bookshelf with ropes around his arms and legs. Draco cleared his throat. Both heads turned.

"Hey," said Draco, awkwardly.

Harry's mouth opened in a small "O".

Granger glanced from one to the other quickly. She took a step back. "Should I…" she asked, looking at Harry. He nodded once, swiftly, decisively, not taking his eyes off Draco.

"But first could you…?" He waved a helpless hand around, where it peeked out from the ropes. Granger flushed and nodded, whispering, "Finite Incantatem." The ropes disappeared and Harry relaxed as he dropped his arms. He rubbed his wrists absently, still staring at Draco, and Granger turned and left quietly.

"So," said Draco, and cleared his throat. "How have you been?"

Harry smiled. "Pretty shitty. The boy I like has been hiding from me, and I haven't spoken to him or even seen him except across the great Hall in a week." His green eyes shone with intensity. "I've missed him." His voice was a whisper, he stepped closer with each word he spoke, and Draco shuddered from the intimacy of it.

"Yeah?" he managed. "What would you say to him if you saw him?"

"I'd tell him I love him, and he's the only one for me," replied Harry, gazing deep into his eyes, and Draco was fucked; absolutely fucked, because he was crazy about this git. Maybe it wasn't love yet, but he was mad about Harry Bleeding Potter and he would be damned if he gave him up over a misunderstanding.

He stepped forward hesitantly. Harry's gaze didn't waver. He closed the gap between them, and reached for Draco's face. He cupped Draco's cheek in his left hand, like a caress. Draco closed his eyes as they leaned forward and their lips met in the softest, most tender of kisses. It was beautiful. It was loving and sweet and full of promise. They stood apart, not touching except for their lips and Harry's hand on Draco's cheek, softly stroking and caressing the skin with his thumb.

They broke apart and looked at each other, and Harry gave him a tentative smile. "Can I tell my friends you're my boyfriend, now?" he asked hopefully. Draco grunted.

"I guess. Maybe. Just don't say that too often. Malfoy's aren't normally the type to be anyone's boyfriend."

Harry chucked, and slid his arms around Draco's neck, kissing him soundly. They slid together, fitting neatly into place like a hand into a glove. Their lips crushed together, moving fervently, reverently across one another. It was an almost holy action. As Harry swept his lips over Draco's collarbone, the soft kisses he trailed there were like anointing oil, and Draco's answering moans a prayer.

He wanted this so badly; wanted Harry. Wanted more with him. He crushed Harry's lips in a bruising kiss, fiercely grabbed Harry about the waist, and the brunet moaned into his mouth at the rough treatment. They kissed in a frenzy, tongues gliding into each other's mouths and dancing playfully, passionately with each other. He tore his lips away at last to gasp for air and Harry continued his ministrations to Draco's neck.

Harry tasted as he always did; of sweat and sweetness, a faint hint of chocolate and mint from the chocolate frogs he was always eating and the constant brushing of his teeth to prevent the chocolate frogs from causing any problems. Draco chuckled, thinking how much more he'd learned about Harry just by sharing a common room with him, and having a shared bathroom between the boy's dorms.

Then Harry did something with his tongue and Draco's world was blown away, blown to that one little spot.

"Harry," he gasped needily. "I want you.  _Fuck,_  I want you so bad."

"Me too," groaned Harry. "I want you inside me."

The moment the words were out they both went still. "Do you mean that?" Draco asked in a low voice.

Harry hesitated. "Yes," he decided. "I'm just a little scared because I've never done it before."

Draco chuckled. "I've never been with a guy before either."

Harry blushed and buried his head in Draco's chest. "I've never been with anyone," he murmured. "I tried with Ginny, but it didn't work. Apparently I'm only attracted to guys. To you, in particular." He looked up shyly and Draco thought it was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. He also felt slightly blown away by Harry's confession. Knowing that no one else had ever known Harry so intimately gave him a fierce and primal sense of possessiveness.

"I'll be gentle," he promised, nibbling Harry's ear, and Harry shivered. "I'll take care of you." Harry ran his hands over Draco's chest, sliding his school robes off. He began to tug at Draco's jumper. Draco's pulse raced.

"Right here?" he asked, nervously. "Now?"

"Now," repeated Harry. "And this is as good a place as any." Actually he'd always pictured losing his virginity in a rather more romantic setting but he was fine with the stacks.

"Wouldn't you like your first time to be more… romantic?" Draco queried.

"Draco," murmured Harry, finally distracted from undressing his lover. "This is where everything started between us. That makes it plenty romantic to me." Then he nipped and licked and sucked at Draco's pulse point and suddenly taking their clothes off seemed like a brilliant idea to Draco.

Draco had never fully appreciated just how erotic the act of undressing another person could be. He had taken lovers in the past, but never anything serious, never anything more than a one-off, a fling. None of them had mattered to him. None of them had been Harry.

He gazed at each expanse of tanned, toned flesh he uncovered with greedy eyes, drinking it in and running his hands all over it. Giving in to the urge to lick and suck all over it and listening to Harry mewl like a kitten. He bit and sucked on every sensitive spot he could find, all over Harry's chest and stomach. He dropped to his knees and kissed down the trail of dark hair from Harry's navel to the waist of his trousers. He nuzzled it, nosing at the waistband and making Harry whimper.

He went to unbuckle Harry's belt and realised his hands were shaking. Somehow he managed anyway. He carefully undid each button, and pulled down the zip. With a sudden motion, he stood, and grabbed Harry. Harry let out a yelp as he was laid on the floor, but didn't protest. Draco slid his pants and trousers off in one deft motion, pulling them off his feet, leaving Harry completely nude and exposed.

Just a few months ago the prospect would have delighted him; glorying in all the ways he could use it to humiliate his rival. Now it delighted him for a whole different reason. He eagerly eyed Harry's long, red cock, thick and full, leaking precome from the tip. He leaned down and licked it a few times, tasting it; tasting Harry. He smiled as Harry gasped and bucked his hips and hissed, "Merlin, Draco, Merlin,  _fuck_!"

Then he loomed over Harry, standing, drawing his own trousers and pants off. Harry's breath caught and he stared eagerly for his first glimpse of the blond completely in the raw.

Draco's cock was long, gently curved, and pale pink. It was perfect and elegant, just like the rest of him. Harry's mouth watered at the sight and he fought the urge to get up and suck the blond off, knowing that what awaited would be even better if he were patient enough.

"I don't know what to do," Draco admitted, hesitantly. Harry smiled.

"Conjure lube to start. Then you push one finger inside me, then two, and eventually three, one at a time, giving me time to adjust to each," he explained. "Move them around, scissor them, open me up so I can take you. And lube yourself before you go in – slowly, cause this is my first time and it's going to hurt at first." He felt rather shaky as he explained it, the enormity of what they were doing sweeping over him.

But he wanted Draco. He wanted Draco to be his first, and he wanted it here, and he wanted it now.

Draco knelt down in front of him, and after fishing his wand out his robe, conjured some lube. He rubbed it between his fingers, warming it, then reached down and softly touched Harry's entrance. Harry shuddered at the contact.

"Easy, love," murmured Draco, and Harry's heart warmed. He relaxed as Draco slipped a finger inside him, and gasped in wonder at the feeling.

Draco wiggled his finger in slow, sure movements, delving deeper into Harry's hole. After a few moments, he added another finger, and began to feel around, scissoring them. He felt a small lump inside Harry and pressed on it, unconsciously, and Harry arched his back and cried out.

Draco froze. Harry hissed, "Merlin, Draco, do that again!" Draco smiled, realising Harry had cried out from pleasure, not pain. He ran his fingers slowly over the nub again, and Harry's whole body spasmed as he cried out brokenly.

Draco withdrew his fingers and Harry whimpered. "It's alright, love," whispered Draco, as he cast a silencing spell around them, and added a disillusionment charm for good measure.

Harry watched him through half-lidded eyes. Draco smiled above him, a pale greek god in the dim lighting.

Then Draco put his fingers back in, one, then two again, and began to scissor them and feel around for the nub. He felt so eager to see Harry fall apart beneath him. To watch him writhe and beg. It wasn't driven by their old rivalry this time, but by his libido instead.

He shook a little as he added the third finger, becoming aware of how monumental this was. Harry had never been with anyone before, and he had chosen Draco for his first time. It scared him a little.

He scissored a bit and played with Harry's prostate, licked Harry's cock a little and enjoyed the way Harry went to pieces every time he did. He felt so hard he could almost come just from watching Harry.

"Merlin, Draco, Godric, fuck! Fuck, fuck,  _fuck_!"

"That's the idea," murmured Draco, marvelling at the potty mouth the Golden Boy had during sex.

He pulled his fingers out, and Harry groaned in frustration. "Hang on, love," he whispered, conjuring more lube and slicking his cock. He tried to still his shaking hands and was only partially successful.

He eased himself towards Harry's entrance, teasing it with the tip of his cock. Harry gasped. "Inside. Now!" he demanded. Draco obliged.

He slid in gently, just a couple of inches, and stopped when Harry flinched, his face scrunching up and biting his lip. Despite the tight heat surrounding him, threatening to drown him, Draco kept a clear head and stayed perfectly still, waiting for Harry to signal he could continue. "You alright, Harry? Do you need me to stop?"

"No," said Harry. "I'm alright, now. It's just your cock is so big. You can move, just keep it slow, okay?"

Draco nodded, his mouth dry. The way Harry's lips had curved and his half-shut eyes staring into Draco's as he called Draco's cock 'so big' made him feel a heady rush of pride and arousal. He continued to slide into the tight channel, feeling it envelop him, inch by slow, torturous inch.

He kissed Harry, who twined his arms about his neck. They kissed slowly, languidly, as Draco slid inside of him. Harry's tongue eagerly lapped at Draco's, and Draco turned the kiss fiercer, more passionate and bruising. Twin moans escaped their mouths. They kissed for what seemed like an eternity before Draco broke away to keep from losing control while he finished sliding inside Harry.

Draco moaned again, unable to contain himself. He was fully sheathed, his balls rubbing against Harry's ass. He had never felt such tightness, such warmth, such  _closeness_ to another human being.

He waited while Harry adjusted, thinking of Snape in a frilly dress to keep from coming too soon.

His arousal dampened slightly, he allowed himself to stare at Harry again, drinking him in. He held his breath, gazing at Harry with his eyes shut, pink lips parted, sweat on his brow, and his breathing hitching.

_Gorgeous,_ he thought.

And then,  _Mine._

Harry began to wiggle his hips, moving against Draco, moaning. Draco slowly slid out and in again, and Harry gasped. Draco stopped, but Harry shook his head.

"Keep going," he whispered. His eyes were still shut, and his breathing laboured.

Draco moved again, still slowly. Harry moaned arching his neck, baring his throat. Draco smiled. He dove onto the exposed neck, biting and sucking and marking it.

Harry cried out and twisted beneath him, and he thrusted with more force than before. Harry cried out again and Draco felt proud.

He remembered the little nub inside Harry that had made him all but come without Draco even touching his cock, and began to angle himself, hoping he could somehow reach it with his cock. He changed the angle slightly with each thrust, and he knew he'd found it when Harry suddenly let out a string of expletives.

"Merlin! Goddamn _, fuck_! Shit, Godric, Merlin, fuck!" Harry all but screamed, and Draco was grateful for the foresight to cast silencing spells. He began to thrust faster and faster, hitting the nub over and over while Harry sobbed and writhed and twisted and came completely undone beneath him.

He felt his release approaching, and reached for Harry's cock, stroking it in time with his movements. Harry bucked and thrust up to meet him with each stroke.

"Oh gods," Harry cried out brokenly. "OH, Merlin, Godric, gods! Draco! Draco!  _Draco_!"

Draco threw his head back and grabbed Harry's hips, thrusting deeply and desperately into him, filling him to the hilt.

Chanting his lover's name like a mantra, Harry came, shooting thick streams of white fluid over his chest and Draco's stomach.

At the hot clench of muscle around his cock, Draco came too, his orgasm making him see stars and filling Harry with what seemed like an endless amount of come. Harry's name was on his lips as he came; a broken, desperate prayer.

Draco collapsed onto Harry's stomach, boneless and breathless. Harry was shaking slightly, and looked awed. "Wow," he whispered, after a few minutes to catch his breath. "Wow."

"Yeah, wow," echoed Draco, burying his nose in Harry's neck, breathing in his scent, light and musky, almost woodsy. He smelt of fresh breezes and trees and grass and Quidditch leathers. Draco loved it.

"Are you sniffing me?" demanded Harry.

"Yes," replied Draco, unashamed. "I love your scent."

Harry chuckled. "I love you," he whispered.

Draco hesitated. "I'm falling in love with you," he said. "I've never been in love before, so I don't have a clue how this works. But I know I'm falling for you, Harry; I just don't want to say those words until I can mean them with my whole heart."

He laid himself bare to Harry, hoping it was enough to cover the gap in their feelings.

Harry chuckled. "It's okay, Draco. It means a lot to hear you say that. I'm not gonna say I'm not disappointed, but I know you don't feel the same way, or you would have said it to me when I first told you. So it's alright." He slid his arms around Draco's neck and the two of them kissed heavily.

Finally Harry murmured, "You're kind of squishing me. I liked it at first but now it's really starting to hurt. This floor isn't soft." Draco chuckled and eased himself up, his soft member sliding out of Harry as he did so.

He cast a quick cleaning charm on them both, and helped Harry to his feet. They dressed quickly, stealing quick kisses from each other while they did. They then leaned on the bookshelf, kissing and tracing soft circles on each other's backs for a while.

"Mmm," said Harry, snuggling into Draco's neck. Draco chuckled, and ruffled his hair. It was soft. Draco felt so happy his heart could almost burst.

"Comfy?" he asked in a low voice.

"Mmhmm," came the reply.

He chuckled. He leaned down and nibbled on Harry's ear, and Harry squeaked in response. He laughed. "Why Potter," he drawled. "I didn't realise that being shagged would turn you into a mouse."

"Oh, sod off, Malfoy," griped Harry, with no real heat. Draco could feel him grinning against his neck.

"You're a berk, Potter," he said, affecting a wounded air. "We shag and all you can say to me is, "Sod off, Malfoy? I'm hurt."

Harry snickered. "You're a prat, Draco," he said affectionately. "A great big pretentious prat."

He opened his mouth to retort when Harry suddenly licked a stripe up his neck, across his pulse point. He swallowed convulsively.

"Harry," he gasped. "Don't –"

Harry grinned and did it again. Draco growled. "Dammit Potter, it's not funny!" Harry giggled.

"It is to me," he said, childishly. "Silly git."

"Potter, you're a – Nnngh –" Harry lapped at his pulse point again, "–A bloody tease!"

Harry laughed breathlessly, and continued nipping and sucking and licking at Draco's neck. Draco groaned. Already he could feel himself growing hard again.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Potter," he growled, and Harry nipped him again, hard.

Draco growled and flipped him over, pinning him against the floor. Harry gazed up at him through half-lidded eyes.

"I said not to start things you can't finish, Potter," he said, his voice low.

"I heard," Harry purred back, smiling seductively.

With another growl in his throat Draco attacked Harry's lips in a harsh kiss. Harry responded, opening his mouth to Draco's, humming under the onslaught of passion Draco decided to shower on him.

Draco pressed him to the ground again, and Harry twined his arms around Draco's neck. They kissed fiercely, desperately. Despite their recent activities, both of them felt their desire growing again. It had been too long since they had touched one another before today; once was not enough for either of them now.

Shedding their clothing was quick work, and they remained occupied in the stacks for quite some time afterwards.

* * *

Hermione sat, lost in thought at a table in the library. She had no reason to doubt what Harry had told her, but she still found it hard to believe. She wanted to go find him and make him explain, but he and Malfoy had been in the library stacks together for quite some time and she had no wish to intrude on what she was certain was a fairly private reunion.

She wondered what Harry planned to tell Ron. He would not likely take the revelation well.

_Ginny_.

Ginny surprised her. She was tempted to go find Ginny and force the story from the other girl, only she doubted Ginny would have many more details than she herself possessed. And she wanted to hear everything from Harry himself, when he was ready to tell her.

If only he'd come out of the stacks with Malfoy.

She sighed and folded her arms over her chest. She was patient. She would outwait him. She was good at that.


	7. Insecurities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry deals with his insecurities about his sexuality, and about telling his friends the truth.

**Chapter Seven:** Insecurities

**Disclaimer:** I'd give almost anything to own Harry and Draco. Unfortunately, J.K. isn't selling and I couldn't afford to buy them anyway. :P

**Warnings:** Hot, steamy boyXboy lovin'. Some language.

**A/N:** I am soooooooo sorry I've gone so long without updating. I've had many, many RL problems. But I'm FINALLY back and should be able to get a few more chapters out fairly quickly. Thank you so much for all the reviews - I'll reply to them all soon!

Big thanks to Brittany for reading over the first draft of this chapter for me. :)

This chapter deals largely with Harry's insecurities about being gay, and his self-loathing induced by the Dursleys and their abusive and toxic upbringing.

* * *

_Yeah, it's plain to see_

_That baby you're beautiful_

_And it's nothing wrong with you_

_It's me, I'm a freak, yeah_

_But thanks for lovin' me_

_'Cause you're doing it perfectly._

_"What Do You Want From Me?" by Adam Lambert_

* * *

Harry and Draco were finally getting dressed; having shagged twice in quick succession, and Harry realising that he had a bushy-haired friend who was likely still waiting for him, intent on a more detailed explanation.

"I assume you'll be rejoining the portable brain?"

" _Draco_!" Harry fought to smother a laugh.

"What?" Draco widened his eyes innocently.

"She's not... That's not..." Despite his best efforts, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards, and his eyes danced with mirth. Draco allowed himself a triumphant smirk.

"Be  _nice_." Harry swatted him playfully. Draco danced out of his reach, then allowed Harry to grab his arm and pull him into a hug. Harry buried his face in the taller boy's shoulder, inhaling his scent. "Prat," he murmured.

"That's news to you?" Draco drawled. "Potter,  _I'm_  not nice. Don't try to make me into something I'm not. He sniffed in mock offense.

Harry snorted. "You know what I mean. It would just be nice if you could, you know. Play nice."

"Harry," Draco pulled back, holding Harry at arm's length and staring into his eyes. Harry was lost in a sea of grey with cloudy skies. He spoke earnestly. "I hope you know that just because we're... Us... Doesn't mean I'm going to be best friends with Weasel and the - Granger." He had hastily amended the final word when Harry's eyes narrowed. "You do know that, right?

Harry sighed "Yes, you great git. Things between us have changed, but you're still you and Ron and Hermione are still Ron and Hermione! Just... Try to play nice with one another... For me?" He tilted his head up at Draco, looking at the taller boy with pleading eyes. Against his will, Draco felt himself softening.

"Alright," he said grudgingly. "I can try."

"Thanks," Harry smiled. "Just give them a chance, yeah?"

"Potter-"

"You gave me a chance," Harry pointed out.

"Neither Granger or Weasel have ever had their lips around my prick," Draco said dryly. "Nor will they ever," he added quickly, shuddering.

"Prat," Harry said again, punching him lightly on the shoulder as a bright red flush spread over his cheeks, but he was still smiling. "Can you give them a chance? I'm willing to give your friends a chance, and none of my friends ever wanted to hand you over to a dark lord intent on your death." He smirked a little.

"Low blow, Potter." Draco scowled.

"Parkinson - Pansy - never even apologised. And I'm still willing to give her a chance... For you." He stared up at his lover earnestly. "Fuck, Draco, I'm not asking you to like them. Just get to know them and see what happens-"

"A bloodbath," cut in Draco sourly.

"You never know; you could end up liking them after all. Well maybe not Ron," he said hastily as Draco shot him a pointed look. "But you and Hermione have a lot in common. So you never know."

Draco sighed.

"Besides," Harry added as an afterthought. "I never dated either of them, but you and Pansy-"

" _Alright_!" Draco threw his hands up in the air. "If I don't agree, you're never going to shut up about it, are you?"

"Nope," said Harry smugly.

"Fine," Draco groused. "I'll give them a chance. Are you happy now, Potter, you bloody  _girl_?"

"Hey!" Harry looked indignant. "Pretty sure you've already got a good enough look at my equipment to know it, but I am  _not_  a bloody girl!" He snorted. "Or have you forgotten already?" He cocked a sarcastic brow at the blond.

Draco's eyes gleamed. "I don't know, Harry," he purred, pulling Harry flush against himself and reaching down to cup his arse. "Maybe I have." He gave an experimental squeeze, grinding forward and dipped his head down to nip at the smaller boy's neck. Harry gasped.

"Perhaps I need a reminder," Draco added, licking a stripe across the bottom of Harry's jaw.

"Merlin, Draco," he groaned. His eyes fluttered shut and he tipped his head back, giving Draco full access to the pale curve of his throat. Draco took advantage of it, sucking and biting at the side of Harry's neck until a purpling bruise blossomed there. He smirked against the skin as he felt the brunet squirming; gasping and mewling under his ministrations. He ground forwards, making sure his hardening cock pressed against Harry's hip.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Harry demanded, the amusement and breathlessness in his tone belying the annoyance he tried to convey.

"That's one way of putting it," murmured Draco. "Did you know the French call orgasm 'the little death'?"

"Did not... Know that..." gasped Harry. He bucked unconsciously against the blond, who squeezed his arse and ground into him harder.

"Harry," he growled, nipping at Harry's earlobe. "Want you."

"You just had me!" protested Harry weakly.

"Want you again."

"You had me again!"

" _Again_ , again."

"Merlin, Draco," Harry groaned again. "You  _are_  trying to kill me!" With difficulty he forced himself to pull back, away from the blond.

"Harry!" Draco pouted, confused. "You can't tell me you don't want this." He cupped Harry's erection through his jeans. " _This_  speaks volumes." He tried to pull Harry in again, but his efforts were thwarted.

"Merlin, Draco, you know I do; it's just..."

"Just what?"

"Itsjustthatmyarseissorealright?" mumbled Harry, looking down and blushing.

"What?"

"Damnit, Draco, my arse is really sore, okay?" snapped Harry, cheeks flaming.

"Are you alright?" Concern overrode Draco's arousal for a moment and filled his features. He worried he might have hurt the other boy. He looked Harry over worriedly. "Fuck, Harry, I didn't mean to hurt you. Do you need a potion? Will you be alright?"

"It's fine, you pillock. It's not that bad."

"Oh." Draco smiled in relief. Then the predatory look came back into his eyes. He pulled Harry close again. "In that case..." He returned his attentions to Harry's ear. "I think I deserve a reward for agreeing to get to know your friends."

Harry gasped and pulled away again. " _Draco_!"

Draco blinked at him, the picture of innocence. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes.

"There's a difference between 'not that bad' and 'ready for another pounding', you know."

Draco managed to look sheepish while still appearing regal. Harry supposed Draco could probably look regal taking a piss. It was just the way he was. He discarded that train of thought in favour of a more appealing one.

"I'll agree, though, that you deserve a reward," he purred, pressing himself against the Slytherin.

"Oh?" Draco swallowed, looking understandably confused. He reached down again to tentatively cup Harry's arse again. Harry shook his head, eyes gleaming as he moved Draco's hands away. Draco growled in frustration.

"Bloody cocktease!"

"No," Harry laughed. With a Cheshire grin he dropped to his knees and slid his hands under Draco's robes, never breaking eye contact.

" _Oh_." Draco's breath hitched as he stared into brilliant green. Like a jungle forest; you could get lost in those eyes, Draco thought as Harry fumbled with his fly, unwilling to look away. Then it was down, and Harry slid Draco's trousers and pants down to his knees in one fluid motion.

Draco bit his lip as his erection sprang free. The cool air drafting up his robes onto his bare arse and cock while Harry knelt on the ground in front of him, staring up at him with those amazing eyes was probably the most erotic combination he had ever seen and felt.

Harry gripped his member, caressing the underside with his thumb. Draco moaned, and as his eyes fluttered shut he saw Harry duck his head under his robes. Then warm, wet heat enveloped his cock and he was lost. He tossed his head back, moaning and bucking his hips slightly as Harry's head bobbed.

Harry took him deep; much deeper than before, and the things he did with his tongue were positively illegal, Draco was certain. Harry ran his wicked tongue up and down Draco's shaft, curling around it slightly. He swirled it round the head, flickering back and forth then dipping into the slit. He repeated the motions while one hand worked the base of Draco's cock, and the other fondled his balls. A finger teased his entrance, then Harry swallowed Draco to the hilt, the head of his cock hitting the back of Harry's throat. Draco mewled and arched his back.

Harry sucked and hollowed his cheeks. Draco gasped and his eyes snapped open. His knees buckled and he grabbed the shelf behind him for support.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco moaned. "Oh, Harry! Harry, oh Merlin!"

Draco realised he was not going to last as Harry repeated the pattern. The combination of hot, wet mouth, wicked tongue, and Harry's intense suction; not to mention the fact that it was  _Harry Potter_ , his longtime nemesis and rival sucking him off in the library, was too much for him. He came violently with a cry that might have been Harry's name, it might have been Merlin's. It might have been gibberish for all he knew. All he knew was that he had never come so hard from a blowjob in his life. Harry swallowed every drop Draco shot out with precision. The he released Draco and pulled back, coming out from under Draco's robes.

Draco let go of the shelf and slid down, sinking to his knees in front of Harry, panting. "Merlin," he whispered, dazed. He was dimly aware that his trousers and pants were still halfway down. He didn't really care at the moment. Harry smirked - smirked! At him! - and the light in his eyes was positively smug.

"You've been practicing." Draco's voice was flat, a note of accusation underlying it.  _And not with me_ , he wanted to add. Hurt and jealousy flared in his chest.

"Only on blood pops," promised Harry, raising his hands in a peacemaking gesture. "And I may have, erm, read a few books." His cheeks pinked deliciously, his eyes and smile turning shy as he added, "You're the only one I want, Draco."

Warmth swept through Draco and with a growl he lunged at Harry, knocking him over. They fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs, Draco kissing him fiercely; possessively. He tasted himself on Harry's tongue, bitter and salty, and it was  _right_. Harry should taste of him, smell of him; Harry was his.

"Mine," he growled into Harry's mouth.

"Yours," Harry agreed fervently.

Their lips mashed, teeth clacked, tongues danced. It was perfection, and Draco never wanted it to end. Harry bucked against him and he realised the brunet hadn't come. He palmed Harry's erection through his jeans and the boy mewled, arching his back. He ground his hip into Harry, giving him the friction he needed, and it only took a few moments before Harry arched his back again, twisting and coming with a wordless cry.

Draco watched the boy writhing beneath him and was struck by how beautiful he was. He thought to himself that he would never get tired of this; of watching Harry come undone.

He leaned forwards and kissed Harry again, slowly this time, tenderly. For several long moments they were lost in one another's mouths. Draco's heart ached with happiness.

Finally, they lay quietly together, hands languidly stroking one another's sides, snuggling in post-orgasmic bliss.

Harry eventually shifted and let out a sigh. "Hermione's gonna kill me."

"Why?" Draco sounded a little indignant. Harry chuckled.

"Do you have any idea how long we've been here for?"

Draco shrugged, but ceded the point.

Harry sighed again as he staggered to his feet, wincing a little. He hadn't been lying to Draco about being sore. He'd gone from being a virgin to having rather enthusiastic sex twice in one afternoon. While he'd enjoyed it immensely and had no regrets about it, he was quite tender now. He privately wondered if there might be some way to get a potion out of Pomfrey without disclosing the reason he needed it.

* * *

Harry saw Hermione sitting at a table by the window, looking rather peeved. He winced in anticipation of what he knew would be a rather enthusiastic tongue lashing. He slid into the seat across from her, wincing again for a different reason.

Hermione looked up at him and blinked. "So you're finally here," she said.

Harry gave her a sheepish grin. "Err, yeah."

She gave him a long, searching look, and he blushed under her gaze. She wasn't stupid. She probably knew exactly what he and Draco had been up to this whole time.

"Have a good... talk?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," he answered. He shifted uncomfortably, wincing again. He probably was going to need that potion, after all. He and Draco had gone at it like rabbits, after all, and they hadn't taken it easy on his virgin backside. He bit down on the sting and refocused on Hermione.

"So, tell me, Harry, how long have you and Draco…"

"Since the day he accidentally kissed me in the library. Right where we were standing a while ago, actually."

Hermione looked like she didn't know whether to be impressed with him for being able to hide it so well, or furious at him for not telling her sooner.

"I thought I was your best friend, Harry," she said. He sighed.

"Mione, you are. But I'm sure you don't tell me everything. For example, what you and Ron get up to behind closed doors is absolutely none of my business and I have no interest in hearing about it. I don't see why I should be any different."

"Because, Harry, you didn't even tell me you were seeing him!" She was upset, a flush spreading across her cheeks and tears gathering in her eyes.

"That's because, Mione, I  _wasn't_  seeing him. Before our date the other day, it was just sex. There was nothing to tell, unless I wanted to get Ron furious and on my case for no good reason."

"Harry, I didn't even know you liked boys."

Harry hung his head. "I didn't want you to think different of me," he admitted softly.

"Harry – how could you think that?"

"You're muggle-born, Hermione. I know how muggles think. My aunt and uncle –"

"Sod your aunt and uncle!" said Hermione, eyes flashing.

Harry blinked.

"I'm not them, and don't you  _dare_  ever compare me to them again, Harry James Potter; or so help me I will hex your bollocks off!" she hissed.

Harry swallowed. He knew she was perfectly capable of following through on that threat.

"Sorry, Mione," he said gently. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It was just… I didn't know for sure. And it wasn't like it was something that I could take back after I'd told you. I was just scared. Because you are my best friend and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Hermione's face softened. She reached out and squeezed his hand, understanding and compassion in her eyes. "I get it, Harry," she said quietly. "It just hurts that you didn't trust me."

He hung his head. He felt now, just how irrational his fears had been. At the same time, he also knew part of where they had come from. "I guess it was because part of me can't accept myself. Part of me believes that my uncle was right, that I'm an aberration and an abomination."

Hermione flinched. "You're not, Harry. Don't ever think that. Ever." She swallowed and spoke thickly, her eyes glistening. "I won't have you saying things like that about yourself."

"I know, Mione. With my head, I know that being gay isn't something I can help or control, and that doesn't mean it's bad any more than my having magic is bad for being something different that I was born with. But there's also a part of me that can't accept that." He stared at the table in front of himself. "I don't know what to do to change that, Mione."

Hermione rose silently and walked over to the other side of the table, and knelt beside him. "You're a wonderful person, Harry James Potter; and an amazing wizard. An incredible human being. Being gay has no bearing on that, and it couldn't possibly make you less than you are in any way. Just because a bigoted bastard pumped his views down your throat your whole life does  _not_  mean you have to accept them. You're a precious person; a  _good_  person."

Harry nodded. He didn't trust himself to speak around the lump that was in his throat.

"Say it, Harry."

"Say what?"

"Say, 'I am a precious person, a good person.'"

Harry winced. "Mione, I can't say something like that…"

"Do it, Harry; or so help me I will not stop nagging you until you do."

Harry sighed. He spoke quietly and quickly. "I am a precious person, a good person."

"Say it like you mean it, Harry."

He stared at her dubiously. She quirked a brow as if to say, "Get a move on!" He sighed and tried to say it with more feeling.

"I am a precious person, a good person." His cheeks flamed. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel. He felt like a conceited prat, saying something like that; but there was a small part of him that felt better for having said it. Like a weight had – not dropped off, exactly, but  _eased up_. He supposed Hermione knew what she was on about.

Hermione wrapped her arms around him and held him tightly. For a moment Harry was uncomfortable, then he relaxed into her embrace. He hugged her back and she squeezed him so tight that tears came into his eyes. They weren't tears of pain, though. He wasn't sure what they were tears of. Just that he felt better than he had in a long time.

* * *

Hermione and Harry had talked for a bit, but mostly she'd just held him while he shivered and his lip trembled. He didn't cry.

He'd left to go tell Ron about Malfoy. She'd had to talk him into that; he'd been reluctant and she understood, saying that it wasn't just because he was gay, but that he was shagging Malfoy and Ron wouldn't understand. He would feel betrayed. She reminded him how he would feel even more betrayed if Harry kept it from him.

"You're not planning on ending things with Malfoy soon, right?" she asked him.

"No," he replied, vehement. "I bloody well love the git; so much that it hurts. If it ends between us, it won't be my doing."

"Then Ron needs to know," she said.

Harry had closed his eyes and sighed, rubbing his temples. "Alright," he said at last.

After he left Hermione tried to return to her research, but Harry wouldn't leave her mind. She sat up straight and stared into the distance, lost in thought.

She wasn't sure why Harry would have such a hard time embracing his sexuality when he'd eagerly embraced his magic; it wasn't likely the Dursleys had seen one as being worse than the other.

Then again, he hadn't even known magic existed until he was thrust in the middle of a thriving community of people just like him. He was accepted for what he was by everyone but the Dursleys at the same time as he found out he was a wizard. Even his enemies - such as Malfoy, or even Voldemort - didn't hate him for being a wizard. Thanks to the Dursleys' desire to keep him ignorant of magic as a child, they hadn't poisoned him against it with prejudiced words before he had a chance to accept it.

Hermione wondered how long Harry had known - or at least suspected - that he was gay. How long he'd hated that part of himself. It made her sad.

She made a mental note to check on the status of the LGBT community in the wizarding world. It would help Harry to have the support. Then she was brooding again; reflecting on just how much damage the Dursleys had done to Harry over the years, and how very ignorant she had been to most of it until recently.

It had been a few weeks after the war when she had found out. The Golden trio had some time alone at Grimmauld Place, and spent it getting well-acquainted with the contents of a few bottles of Ogden's Finest and reminiscing on the past seven years.

They were having fun until Ron had mentioned the bars over Harry's window in Second Year. A rather inebriated Harry had first shut down, but with some prodding, had opened up and spilled his guts. Once the floodgates were open, everything had spilled out.

She and Ron had known that Harry's life with the Dursleys had been difficult, but the extent of the abuse he'd been subjected to throughout his short life before Hogwarts had taken her breath away. Her heart ached for the little boy who'd grown up locked in a cupboard and told he was worthless his whole life.

When it came to the Dursleys, she could almost feel that Voldemort had had a point about muggles.

Voldemort.

She frowned.

This whole mess with the Marks and Voldemort's rumoured return were serious business, and Harry should be focusing on that; not on shagging Malfoy. Especially if he really loved the prat; this affected Malfoy directly, because of his Mark.

She resolved to talk to Harry about it in the near future.

Right now she sighed, and bent her head over her books again.

The answer was out there somewhere, and she was going to find it. No matter what it took, she would find out who was behind this abomination, and make them pay.

* * *

Harry ran a hand through his hair. Ron tilted his head, looking at Harry curiously. They sat in the Gryffindor Eighth Year boy's dorm, and Harry had just told Ron he needed to talk to him about something important. Ron waited for Harry to speak.

Now, Ron was not a patient person by nature, and Harry's fidgeting and hemming and hawing and general teetering back and forth while dithering about what to say was beginning to wear what small measure of patience he possessed quite thin.

"Harry," he said irritably after about fifteen minutes of Harry's stalling. "What the bloody hell is the matter, mate? You're driving me Janus-Thickey certifiable, here."

Harry paled.

"I don't know how to say this," he admitted, staring at the floor. "This is really hard, Ron. I can't stand knowing that you're going to look at me differently. That you won't see me the same way. Because you won't. You can't. This changes everything. I know I need to tell you the truth, but I'm terrified of losing you."

Ron blew out a long breath and leaned forwards, elbows propped up on his knees. His level gaze bored into Harry's; bright sky-blue eyes locked onto forest green.

"You know you can tell me anything, mate. We've been friends too long and gone through too much together for anything to tear us apart. You're never going to lose me, ever; even if you want to. You're stuck with me, mate." He grinned. "For good."

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat and shifted uneasily on the bed. He plucked absently at the bedspread; feeling a distracted wave of gratitude that their dorms were in their old House colours. The Gryffindor red was somewhat comforting.

Thoughts of the Tri-Wizard tournament and the Horcrux hunt flitted through his mind; and he wavered between the uncomfortable feeling that he was somehow betraying Ron, thinking about things that should have been long since forgiven, and a deep-seated fear that history would once again repeat itself.

Ron's grin faded.

"Look, Harry, mate," he said haltingly. "I know I haven't had the best track record in the past. I've been an awful friend. But I always came back, didn't I? And I can learn from my mistakes. I won't abandon you again. No matter what."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to dispel the fear that gripped him. He thought of Hermione and her words and tried to draw strength from their conversation. He took a deep breath.

"Ron, I'm gay."

Ron stared.

"Aaaaaand…?" He nodded his head, encouraging Harry to continue. Harry was thrown.

"Ron, did you hear me? I said I'm gay." Harry was bewildered.

"I know, mate; I figured that out last year." Ron shrugged dismissively. Harry gaped.

"Wha- how?"

"Well, take the girls you were interested in – Cho and Ginny. Both are built kinda like guys. Skinny guys, but guys. And you never seemed to be interested in either one sexually; just existentially. And yeah; I know what that word means – I'm dating Hermione, remember? She's single-handedly improving my IQ.

"Anyway, there was how you never looked at Seamus' girlie mags, and you had no interest in sleeping with Hermione, even though you guys were all alone, in a tent in the woods for weeks; in a situation where any normal straight guy would at least be tempted. That sort of clued me in.

"And looking back, I could see that you always looked just a little too close and a little too long at good-looking blokes. Not to mention your obsession with Malfoy in sixth year." He shuddered. "Thank god that's over."

Harry coughed.

Ron tipped his head at him again. "You alright, mate?"

Harry felt completely off guard. "So, in the wizarding world… being gay isn't… I dunno; it isn't a big deal?"

Ron shrugged. "It used to be, before Simon Wisener developed the Feminatis Masculinus Potion." He grinned. "Hermione just gave me a whole lesson on it recently. Let me see if I can remember: purebloods were up in arms about gays not being able to have kids. That Simon guy, he was gay, and his family refused to let him see his lover, or they were gonna disinherit him. They demanded that he get married and have an heir. So he comes up with this potion that lets his lover turn temporarily into a hermaphrodite, and develop all the bits to have babies. Problem solved."

Harry's jaw dropped. "That… something like that really exists?"

Ron nodded. "You have to take it every day for six months before the transformation is complete, take it every day of the pregnancy, and get weaned off of it for three months after the baby's born. And it works for both guys and girls; either way, you end up a hermaphrodite." He beamed. "Hermione'll be so proud I remembered all that," he said smugly.

Harry reeled. He felt he couldn't really process all the information he'd just been given. He'd been forced to accept that he would never have children when he realised that he was gay; and he'd grieved for the loss. Now Ron was telling him it was possible.

He felt… uplifted and disoriented.

"So that… just made everyone okay with it?" he asked slowly, trying to understand.

"Not right off the bat, no; but no one could say anything about the lack of heirs anymore, and eventually they came around. You might get the odd prejudiced pillock, but mostly everyone's okay with it. Muggleborns are more likely to have a problem with it than purebloods, to be honest."

Ron scratched the back of his head. "Do you wanna know anything else? Cause I think that's all I can remember. Hermione'd know a lot more, if you have more questions."

Harry shook his head. He cleared his throat, remembering there was still something he hadn't told Ron.

"Hey Ron?"

"Mmm?"

"Remember how me and Malfoy are friends now?"

Ron scowled. "Like I could forget. Geeze, mate; I don't know what you see in that ferret."

Harry cleared his throat again. "Well, we're not just friends, Ron."

It took a moment for that to sink in. Ron's eyes widened comically.

"Bloody hell; you're shagging Malfoy?" he yelped.

Harry winced. "Err, kind of."

Ron closed his eyes and groaned. "Merlin help us," he muttered.

"I'm sorry," began Harry, but Ron waved a hand at him.

"I don't pretend to understand, mate. I won't pretend to like it. But you can shag whoever you want to shag. Just don't ask me to be friends with him." He looked mildly disgusted, but resigned.

Harry broke out into a relieved smile. He felt no small amount of wonder at how the conversation had gone. He gently steered the conversation to Quidditch, and Ron perked up and they carried on as if nothing had changed.

Harry realised that maybe, just maybe, nothing really had.


	8. So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco make their relationship public; Harry makes a mistake with severe consequences.

**Chapter Eight:**  So It Begins

 **Disclaimer:**  Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were created by J.K.Rowling. I firmly believe she forgot between the final chapter of DH and the Epilogue that their original purpose in life was to shag one another, and am therefore obligated to attempt to reconcile this disparity. 

 **Warnings:** Mild slash. Language? I don't even notice, sorry. 

 **A/N:**  I am SOOOOOOO SORRY that it has taken me so long to get this chapter done. There are two reasons for this. First, I got really, really sick for a while - I was hospitalized and everything; it was very bad. It took a while for me to recover and afterwards, I'd had to move and do not have regular internet access. I did just get a laptop yesterday, though; which will allow me to write even when I don't have internet access and update the chapters when I get the chance. That should speed things up quite a bit. 

The other reason is that I've really been struggling with this story, because the non-con and torture occurs in the next chapter. I'm struggling with how to portray it without being too graphic, and how to write the aftermath of it. 

I'm also very frustrated with the direction this story is going. I will never write a story that doesn't have a happy ending, but this story is going to get very dark, and I'm struggling with how to end it positively without being trite. I want it to be realistic, because doing otherwise feels disrespectful to those who've lived through some of the things that these characters are going to go through. So please, bear with me while I try to write this story in a way that will satisfy you while being true to both the story and myself. 

* * *

_Well I was walkin for some time  
_ _When I came across this sign  
_ _Sayin "who are you and where are you from?"  
_ _We don't like when visitors come._

_I don't need no sympathy_  
I won't cry and whine  
Life's my light and liberty  
And I shine when I wanna shine  
  
Make their faces crack  
There's no turnin back

_Trespassing - Adam Lambert_

* * *

Draco hummed to himself as he slipped back into the eighth-years’ common room. He was still feeling the after-waves of pleasure that came from a really spectacular blow job. He sauntered over to the couch by the fireplace and threw himself down on it, draping one leg over the arm. He smiled unconsciously.

Harry loved him.

The thought made his chest constrict with happiness. His smile widened into a grin.

He and Harry had just had sex.

The memory made his cock twitch, though he was too spent for it to do much more than that. He hummed again, also unconsciously.

He was quite happy.

“You’re doing better.”

Draco looked up, slightly startled, into the smirking face of his best friend. “Pansy.”

His friend peered at him with a raised brow. “Who’d you shag?”

He gaped. “What makes you think I’ve been shagging?”

She snorted. “First; you look _happy_ for the first time since the whole fiasco with Potter, and second; darling, you’re humming. You _always_ hum after you’ve gotten laid. Everyone in Slytherin knows it.”

Draco frowned. Did he really have such an obvious tell? He would need to work on that.

“Now I know you didn’t shag Blaise, because he’d been trumpeting it from the Astronomy Tower if you did. Same thing with Daphne. You certainly didn’t shag _me_. So who was it?”

Draco smirked. “Potter.”

Pansy’s jaw dropped. He held up an imperious hand to head her off before she could lambast him for being stupid.

“I spied on him and Granger, and found out that I’d jumped to conclusions about what I saw with the Weaslette. Apparently he’s very, very gay; his equipment doesn’t even work for girls. And the Weaslette had been trying to get him to act on his feelings for me for months. She figured out that something was going on between us in the hospital wing, same as you; so she cornered him in the alcove to get him to spill. After he told her she congratulated him and he hugged her as they climbed out of the alcove. _That’s_ what I saw, and naturally I came to the logical conclusions about what it looked like. He’s been trying to set me straight ever since, and he told Granger that he’s in love with me.”

Draco sat back, grinning like the cat that ate the cream. Pansy just gaped in astonishment, her mouth opening and closing several times as she tried to work out what to say.

“Dray,” she said. “Are you _sure?_ ”

He nodded. “Frankly, it makes sense. I feel a bit like an idiot for the way I acted over it. If it bothered me that much, I should have confronted him and kept up a disdainful front until I decided to accept his explanation or not. But it’s over and done with now.” He grinned wickedly. “Harry Potter’s in love with me, and he’s the best shag I’ve ever had in my life.” He paused. “No offense.”

Pansy snorted. “You _must_ be gay, if you think Potter’s a better shag than me. Not like he’s got a wealth of experience, is it?”

“Actually, I just took his virginity.” Draco let himself reminisce for a moment, not noticing the rather dopey smile that overtook his features.

“I thought you said you guys were having sex before?” Pansy’s nose was crinkled in confusion.

Draco coughed. “Well, blowjobs and such.”

Pansy sniggered. “It must be love,” she declared. “Not only have you swapped genders for him; you’ve practiced abstinence!”

Draco swatted at her with a scowl. “Stupid bint,” he snapped. “This isn’t funny.”

“On the contrary,” she giggled. “I think it’s hilarious.”

He glared at her while she chuckled, then she laid a hand on his arm. “Dray, I’m happy for you.”

His annoyance dissolved and he hugged her. “Thanks, Pans. I really... I think I really could fall in love with him, you know?”

She smiled. “I know.”

“So, who’ve you been shagging lately?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “No one. Absolutely no one.”

He arched a brow. “Well, we need to find you someone. You’re much more bearable when you’re shagging regularly, and since I can’t do it anymore I insist on finding some lucky bloke to take up my mantle.”

“Leave it, Draco.” There was a warning in her tone, and his good humour faded as he stared at her in bewilderment.

“Pans, I was only –“

“Just don’t, Draco; alright?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She stared into the fire, her jaw set, mask firmly in place. There was turmoil in her eyes.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right, Pansy?” His voice was soft.

“I know.” She closed her eyes. “I will, I promise. Just... not yet. Alright, Dray? I’m not ready to talk about it.”

He nodded, wondering what had happened to his friend while he was absorbed in his own drama. “Let me know if you need anything?”

“Just keep me distracted from myself until I’m ready to talk.”

“I can do that.” She shot him a grateful smile, and they began gossiping lightly.

* * *

“Hey, Draco.”

Draco looked up, his face splitting into a wide grin when he saw Harry. He and his Slytherins had paused outside the Great Hall on their way to dinner when they ran into the group of Gryffindors. Looking at the looks of confusion on their faces, Draco realised that only Pansy was aware of the changed state of things between himself and Harry.

“Harry,” he smirked. “Feeling better?”

Harry blushed.

Draco’s grin turned feral, and he stepped closer, leaning in to whisper in his boyfriend’s ear. “I have plans for us, after dinner. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

Harry blushed harder, and gazed at Draco with desire in his eyes. “You’re going to start rumours,” he whispered back. “If you keep talking to me like that here.”

“Would you mind?”

“No.”

“Good.” Draco captured his lips in a passionate kiss. When he released Harry, the brunet was panting, and he rested their foreheads together. The taste of Harry was addicting. He felt sure he’d never tire of it. The sound of the Weasel moaning, “Bloody Malfoy; _why_ did it have to be Draco bloody Malfoy?” only added to the happiness of the moment.

All around him he could hear the shocked gasps and whispers of the other students; the murmuring about how he must have done something to their Saviour. Because _of course_ , no one could possibly want to be with Draco Malfoy without being brainwashed or evil. Especially not the hero of the wizarding world. Naturally, it _must_ be a trick of some kind.  

 _Of course I brainwashed him into dating me. Brainwashed with awesome sex._ Draco couldn’t help feeling smug about _that_. He found he didn’t really care all that much about the opinions of the people around him. None of them mattered; none except Harry. And Harry was in love with him.

Draco spoke in a low voice just loud enough to be overheard. “You’re mine, Harry James Potter, and I want everyone in Hogwarts to know that.”

“Yours,” repeated Harry dumbly, his eyes slightly glazed.

“Yes.” Draco pulled away, smirking some more. “I’ll see you after dinner, Potter.”

He turned around to enter the Great Hall, listening to the shocked murmurs of the other students, completely missing the silly grin that split Harry’s face.

* * *

Harry sat on a log outside the Shrieking Shack, staring up at the moon. He’d snuck out of Hogwarts, taking the Honeydukes passageway and his invisibility cloak before making his way here. His invisibility cloak lay inside his bag, tucked behind the log. When he was finished, he’d be returning to Hogwarts through the tunnel underneath the Shrieking Shack.

For the first time since his date with Draco, he felt at peace. He’d missed the full moon; which was when he completed this little ritual, because he’d been so caught up in what was happening with the blond that he’d forgotten. So he did it now as it did every month, in memory of Remus, and of Snape.

“Draco Malfoy is my boyfriend,” he said. “I don’t know what you’d think about that, Remus. I hope you’d be happy for me. Professor Snape, I know you’d probably be disgusted with his lapse in taste and judgement. But he makes me happy, and I love him. I’ll do my best to make him happy, too.”

He smiled to himself as he sat in the cold. He shivered. It was nearly Halloween, and he shouldn’t have gone out without a warmer cloak. But he wasn’t ready to go back yet. His mind wandered back to the events right before he’d left Draco’s bed.

_Draco traced the line of Harry’s jaw with his tongue._

_“Merlin, Harry,” he moaned. “You taste so good. I can’t believe I lived this long without your taste before this.”_

_Harry gasped, arching up into Draco, who pressed him down into the mattress._

_“Want you again, Draco,” he whispered huskily. Draco chuckled against his skin, before biting his neck, licking and sucking a mark on it._

_“I’ve created a monster,” he whispered, his breath hot against the shell of Harry’s ear. “Tell me; do you think I can make you scream loud enough to break the silencing charm on these curtains?”_

_“I think we’d better find out,” Harry answered with a smile, turning his head to capture Draco’s lips. Their tongues met and danced as they panted and moaned into one another’s mouths._

_Harry fumbled with Draco’s shirt buttons in his haste to undo them. He could feel Draco hard against him, the blond’s erection jutting into his hip and it still thrilled him beyond belief to know he could affect Draco that way. He canted his hips upwards, rubbing his own cloth-covered cock against Draco’s willing body and both felt and heard his boyfriend groan in response._

_Draco tore at his clothing, speaking in short staccato bursts between kisses._

_“You’re mine.” Kiss. “What you,” another kiss, “Do to me,” and another, “Is positively criminal,” Draco kissed him again, “Harry.” He succeeded in ripping Harry’s shirt open, and leaned forward to take a dusky nipple into his mouth. Harry gasped and arched his back._

_Draco mapped his body with his tongue, moving down Harry’s stomach till he reached his trousers. He opened them swiftly, before yanking them down and taking Harry’s pants with them._

_“Gods, Harry,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over Harry’s cock and making his breath hitch. “You’re so beautiful.”_

_“So are you,” Harry blushed. “And you’re wearing far too many clothes.” He reached down to continue stripping the Slytherin, but Draco batted his hands away and licked a long, slow stripe up Harry’s cock, from base to tip._

_“Mmmm,” he hummed, smirking up at Harry with his pale bangs hanging in his eyes. “I told you; I love your taste. I’m going to taste you very thoroughly now. I’m going to take my time with you, this time.”_

_Harry’s breath hitched again, before Draco opened his mouth and swallowed him down, making his eyes roll back into his head and eliciting a strangled cry._

_“Oh gods; Draco!”_

Harry flushed anew as he remembered how very thorough Draco had been; first bathing him with his tongue, then suckling him until he came screaming, and finally fucking him until he saw stars and his voice was hoarse. He could hardly wait until he had the chance to pay the blond back for the pleasure.

His smile faded as his thoughts turned to more serious matters. Once again he spoke to his old teachers.

“I might have to die again.”

He was silent for a moment, hoping that somehow saying the words would make them easier to swallow.

“Voldemort might not be gone, after all.”

A prick of tears stung his eyes, and he dashed them away, furious. After everything he’d gone through; everything he’d suffered! Everything he’d sacrificed and lost. Everything they all had lost. After so many good people had died...

“If he isn’t back, then someone else is controlling the death eaters through the Mark. We’re trying to figure out what happened, how and why... and how to stop it. Stop him. If Voldemort isn’t gone, we’ll do whatever it takes to get rid of him. Even if that means I have to die again, and stay dead this time.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, against the feeling of _no fair, it’s not fair, just when I had so much to live for_ and continued. “We won’t let your sacrifice be for nothing.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry if that means that I can’t be here to be a good godfather to Teddy, Remus. I’m sorry for letting you down.”

He sat in silence, tears running down his cheeks, as he tried not to fear the future.

As the stunner flew out of the trees and hit him, he never even knew it was coming.

* * *

Draco smirked around the Great Hall as he helped himself to some breakfast. His spectacular mood had not diminished in the slightest since shagging Harry last night. The silly Gryffindor had said he had a vigil to keep for the werewolf, Remus Lupin, and refused to spend the night in his bed.

 _Tomorrow_ , he’d promised. Draco was going to hold him to it. He’d never wanted to have someone sleep in his bed before, but Harry was different. Draco was looking forward to a lot of firsts with him.

The other students stared at him openly. He was well aware that he and Harry were the subject of conversation in every house, including his own. The only difference was that the Slytherin students knew better than to gawk and let him know they were discussing him. Their glances were furtive, when they thought he wouldn’t notice; their whispers only when he wasn’t around.

He hadn’t minded the notoriety so much last night. But now, in the morning, he wasn’t yet awake enough to feel smug. It was simply annoying.

 

Beside him, Pansy grumbled into her tea. Draco had known her for far too long to risk speaking to her before she’d had her second cup. Normally he’d converse with Blaise at breakfast, but Blaise wasn’t speaking to him right now.

He scowled, slightly, as he remembered some of the things that Blaise had said after Harry left last night. Apparently they had indeed managed to break through the silencing charms on the curtains. He realised, with a pang of unwelcome guilt, that he’d hurt his friend. He truly hadn’t meant to. But he also believed wholeheartedly that Blaise had been stupid; nursing a crush on him when he couldn’t have possibly been clearer about the fact that there was no chance of it ever being reciprocated.

He shrugged it off and scanned the Gryffindor table for Harry. He was surprised that none of the members of the Golden Trio were at the table. Normally they’d be there by now.

He frowned down at his plate. So far, this morning had been quite dissatisfactory.

He began eating, his good mood vanished.

Behind him, someone cleared their throat.

“Mr. Malfoy,” came McGonagall’s voice. Draco looked up in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t at the head table. Behind her stood Granger and the Weasel. All three of them looked very ill at ease.

“Yes?” he answered. Privately he wondered where Harry was. A prickle of fear nudged at him, but he refused to allow it to show. “Can I help you?”

Around him his housemates looked on in interest.

“When was the last time you saw Mr. Potter?”

The prickle of fear became a full-fledged roar. “Last night, after dinner. We... spent some time together, then he left to go do something for the- in memory of Professor Lupin. He said he wanted to do it during the full moon but he’d been distracted, and he’d see me this morning.”

Granger gasped. “He didn’t!”

Draco bit his lip. He couldn’t hide his worry now, try as he might. “What’s wrong, Headmistress? Where is Harry?”

McGonagall’s face tightened. “We don’t know, Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter does not seem to be inside the castle.”

Granger spoke up, her face pale. “Professor McGonagall, we need to check the Shrieking Shack. If he went to stand vigil for Remus and Snape, that’s where he went.”

“You mean he left the castle? Alone? At night? With death eaters running rampant?” Draco knew he was shrieking, but he couldn’t make himself care.

Granger looked like she was about to cry. “I didn’t think he’d do it this month. I didn’t think he’d be so bloody stupid!”

“And now he’s missing.” Draco whispered. He felt like throwing up.

“Yes, Mr. Malfoy. I would ask you not to panic, but it appears that Mr. Potter never made it back to the castle last night.”


	9. Horrorstruck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry faces Voldemort, and learns just what Voldemort has planned for him. 
> 
> ****TRIGGER WARNING**** *****NON-CON****

**Chapter Nine:** Horrorstruck

 **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter and Co. are the Property are J.K.Rowling. This is purely a work of fanfiction, and I do not profit from it in any way, shape, or form... unless you count personal satisfaction. 

 **A/N: ***TRIGGER WARNING!***** This chapter contains non-graphic  **NON-CON**. 

If you are worried about being triggered, stop reading after the words, "Then it began." Skip down to the A/N at the bottom. 

* * *

 

Harry groaned as he came back to consciousness. He blinked in the dim light, and a sliver of fear ran through him. Last he’d known he was sitting out by the Shrieking Shack; now he appeared to be in some sort of dungeon.

His arm was jerked roughly. “Awake, are ya?”

He whirled around to see MacNair grinning at him. He reached for his wand automatically, only to find it wasn’t there. A feeling of dread gripped him, as he realised just how monumentally stupid he’d been to leave the castle during the Death Eater uprising. He lunged forward, desperately trying to attack MacNair the muggle way; but he was yanked around by the chains on his wrists; the chains the man held in his meaty right hand.

He tried to stand, only to be yanked to his knees and dragged in a circle as MacNair spun and pulled him along, laughing uproariously all the while.

“Dance, Potter; dance!” someone jeered.

Cackling laughter rang out, and he glared at the Death Eaters that had congregated around him. There were five of them, including MacNair, and they eyed him in a way that made his skin crawl. He swallowed convulsively.

“The Dark Lord wants him,” one of them reminded MacNair. “He said to _Enervate_ the boy and bring him.”

There was some scattered murmuring, as though they were displeased to be deprived of their toy so soon, but MacNair yanked him forward.

“Come on, boy,” he said, leering at Harry over his shoulder. “Our Lord wants to talk to you.”

The other Death Eaters chortled in glee as Harry was dragged along behind them.

Harry couldn’t determine much about where he was being held from his surroundings. It was a dungeon; that much he could see, but he couldn’t distinguish it from any other dungeon he’d seen.

They walked for about fifteen minutes before they entered a great circular stone chamber, filled with Death Eaters; some masked and some not. Seated on a high-backed chair like a throne at the far end was Voldemort.

Dread coiled inside Harry. His scar didn’t hurt; so he felt a sensation of relief that apparently, he was not the Horcrux that had remained to bring Voldemort back. But he sat there, as alive as Harry had ever seen him.

Harry was dragged into the center of the chamber, surrounded by Death Eaters, facing Voldemort. He fought to keep his face impassive as Voldemort rose to his feet, a vicious smile on his lips.

“Harry Potter,” he crooned. “The Boy Who Lived... And Lived Again.” He threw back his head and laughed. “Did you really think you could defeat me?”

Harry refused to acknowledge the fear that sang within his blood. MacNair yanked him to his knees.

“Kneel before the Dark Lord!” he snarled.

Harry kept his head up, staring defiantly into Voldemort’s eyes. _I’m not afraid of you._

“Hello, Tom,” he said calmly.

Voldemort scowled. “You may think you’re fearless and strong,” he said. “But in the end, I will break you. I will break you, and when I send you back to the Ministry, you will be my perfect little weapon. I will use you to take over the wizarding world.”

He smiled at Harry hungrily. “I can’t wait.”

Harry kept his head up and his voice level. “You do realise I’m resistant to the Imperious Curse, right?” He forced a smile of his own. “So I’m afraid that your plan is rather flawed. As all your plans are, really, Tom. You’d think you’d have learned that by now – but no. You’re not quite that bright.”

Voldemort raised his wand furiously and screamed, “ _Crucio!_ ”

White-hot pain lanced through Harry’s veins. He fell to the floor, writhing, and – despite his best efforts – screaming. Agony rippled through him and he lost all awareness of anything except pain.

Then it was over, and he lay there, panting. Reality came trickling back to him, and he gasped in breath, wondering how long he’d been under the Cruciatus. Too long. His muscles twinged and spasmed. His nerves still felt like they were on fire.

“Heal him,” Voldemort hissed. “We’ll need him in perfect health for this.”

A half a dozen spells hit Harry, providing him with some relief. A potion was held to his lips, and he refused to drink it.

Voldemort responded by petrifying him and a secondary spell was used to relax his throat. The potion was poured into his mouth and it slid down his throat against his will. Abruptly, the rest of his aches eased, and it was as though he’d never been tortured in the first place. He glared at Voldemort from where he lay on the floor, still petrified.

“We have a rather talented Potions Master,” continued Voldemort. “After the traitor Snape was assigned to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I had required the services of a new Potions Master. I found one overseas who was willing to come here. He’s been quite an asset these last few months.”

Voldemort smiled wickedly. “He’s assisted in altering a few potions that had previously been considered unalterable. Believe me when I say that he’s far more of a genius than that _traitor_ ever was.”

He waved his hand, and another Death Eater stepped forward; this one masked, and carrying a goblet.

“This particular potion was designed to have a temporary effect; but my Potions Master made it permanent. You’ll be taking it every day for a month, after which time you’ll be unable to undo the effects without being dosed with the antidote for the same length of time.”

His smile broadened. “You won’t be taking the antidote until I’ve decided to release you, and then only so that no one will know what we’ve done,” he declared. “But it will be the key to your undoing.” He waved his hand again, and the Death Eater with the goblet walked towards Harry.

Harry watched helplessly as the Death Eater knelt and poured the potion from the goblet into his mouth, casting the spell to relax his throat and force him to swallow. It tasted foul; like sewage.

The Death Eater stepped back, and Voldemort released Harry from the full body bind he was under. He leapt to his feet, furious.

“I’ll never help you!” he vowed. “There’s nothing you could possibly ever do to make me help you!”

Voldemort threw back his head and laughed, and the Death Eaters laughed with him.

Harry stood there, glaring and wishing he knew exactly what their plan was, so he would know how to defeat it.

Then the pain started.

He sank to his knees, screaming. He curled in a ball on the floor, clutching his abdomen as it felt like fire clawed at his insides. He had never known such pain could exist.

He sobbed, and was vaguely aware of being levitated and carried to a room where he was laid on a hard cot, before the heavy wooden door slammed shut, locking him in. But mostly he was just aware of the pain.

Eventually he blacked out.

* * *

 

In the morning, he was _Enervated_ , petrified, and forced to swallow another dose of the potion. The pain flared to life again, if possible worse than before.

He lay shrieking; writhing as the door closed again.

He lost track of the passage of time. It was marked only by the consistent doses of potion they gave him, but the pain was so great he’d lost track of how many of them there’d been.

Gradually, the pain began to lessen. By the time he received his last dose, it barely hurt at all. Just a persistent ache in his abdomen and in between his legs. The next day he was dragged from his cell to face Voldemort again.

* * *

 

He stood in the stone chamber that had changed little from his previous trip there; little except that this time, there were very few Death Eaters scattered about, and there was a large stone table that had been placed in the center of the room.

Voldemort smiled at him victoriously. “Hello, Harry Potter,” he said. “Are you ready to be broken?”

“You’ll never break me,” Harry spat. “Never!”

Voldemort snapped his fingers, and Harry was petrified once again. A different potion was forced down his throat this time; one that tasted bittersweet, like a grapefruit.

Voldemort raised his left arm, pressing on the Mark there, calling his Death Eaters. One by one, they popped into existence.

The room was soon filled with murmuring voices.

“Silence!”

Voldemort held up his hands, and the room fell silent. “Who wants to be the one to break our _pretty_ little Savior?” His voice was mocking, and the crowd tittered.

“My lord, I beg you to give me that honour!” A voice rang out, and Harry froze.

He was petrified, and couldn’t move; couldn’t check. His heart pounded as he heard footsteps draw nearer.

A head of blond hair appeared in his line of sight. The speaker had his back to Harry, but there was no mistaking him.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. “And why should I give that honour to you, when you have ignored all my summons thus far?”

“Because, my lord; I was unable to get away before now to respond to you. It is impossible to Apparate from Hogwarts, and I was under intense scrutiny once rumours of your return had started. If I had responded before now, I would not have been able to return. I would have been identified as a Death Eater and hunted. Forgive me, my lord; but I thought I would be of more use to you as a trusted member of society.”

 _He’s here to save you,_ Harry thought to himself. _That idiot is taking a risk for your sake._

Voldemort appeared thoughtful. “You are smarter than you have appeared to be in the past, young Malfoy.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“So how is it that you have come to be able to return now, without appearing to rouse suspicion?”

Draco shrugged. “I have pretended to work with the blood traitors and Mudbloods to uncover clues to Potter’s disappearance, and your reappearance. They’ve grown to trust me; enough that if I am missing during a Hogsmeade weekend they will take it at face value when I claim to have been searching for more clues. I can tell you everything that they know – or think they know – thus far, and continue to spy for you in the future.”

 _Careful, Draco._ Harry felt a tendril of fear coil around his heart. _Too many lies and he’ll see right through you._

Voldemort nodded. “That would indeed be useful – if you are telling the truth.”

Draco bowed. “I understand, my lord, and I will open my mind for you.”

Voldemort nodded again. “Why would you volunteer for the opportunity to break Potter? Why should I give it to you?”

Draco bowed again. “My lord, no one has hated Potter more than I have, except for you. I had a plan in place to use Potter to redeem my family name in the eyes of the public, and once rumours of your return started, I began to plot how I would be able to turn him over to you. Following his disappearance, I was forced to once again alter my plans to simply gathering intelligence for you. As I am taking the biggest risks for you, my lord, I believe I ought to receive the largest reward.”

Voldemort appeared intrigued.

_Is that how you’re going to explain the memories he’ll see in your mind? Memories of us?_

Voldemort reached forward with his wand, and intoned, “ _Legilimens!_ ”

Draco flinched, but stayed still. After a few moments, Voldemort pulled back, looking startled. He gave Draco an appraising look, before throwing his head back and laughing.

“Yes, young Malfoy,” he chuckled. “I see you have ample experience already in defiling our little hero.” He leered at Harry. “How does it feel, knowing that you were fucked and used by a Death Eater?”

Harry glared, unable to respond until the body bind was removed. Voldemort turned away, back to face Draco.

“Draco,” intoned Voldemort. “Why don’t you tell me the details you’ve gathered from the little sycophants working to uncover my secrets?”

“Well,” Draco said thoughtfully. “They’re trying to decide whether you’re being impersonated or not, first. Not that I have any doubt who you are, my lord,” he added quickly. “But they are struggling to accept that you’re alive, because they seem to think that it means Potter will have to die if you are. They never told me exactly what that was about, and wouldn’t answer me when I asked. All the Mudblood would say about it was that Dumbledore had sworn them to secrecy, and only Potter, the Weasel, and the Mudblood knew. But apparently it had something to do with how Potter went into the Forbidden Forest at the Battle of Hogwarts, and how he survived the killing curse. Apparently they’re worried that they’ll need to kill him to defeat you.” Draco motioned to Harry with a jerk of his thumb.

Harry felt sick. _He’s lying. He’s mixing truth and lies, to keep from being caught out. He’s just buying time until the Aurors get here. He can’t know just how precious that information is, or he never would have spilled it._

“I see.” Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and suddenly whipped out his wand again. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

Draco was caught off guard this time, and cried out as he fell to his knees. Harry’s heart clenched painfully. He was afraid – not so much for himself; they seemed to have plans for him that meant he’d live a while yet – but for Draco. Stupid, wonderful Draco who’d risked his life and had probably just been found out.

Voldemort ended the spell, and he looked shaken. “It is as you say,” he murmured softly. Draco stood on shaky legs.

“I would keep nothing from you, my lord,” he said.

Voldemort examined him in silence.

“Very well.” An evil smile crossed his serpentine features. “Would you like to hear my plan, young Malfoy? Would you like to know your part in it?”

Draco bowed. “I am most anxious, my lord.”

“Potter values love, friendship, and family above all else. So if we are to control him, we must find a method that utilises those weaknesses. A hostage would work best; someone precious to him. Only it would be difficult to get him to work with us rather than against us when everyone would know that someone was missing; someone who needed to be rescued.” Voldemort waved an expansive hand. “But if the person we’re holding hostage is someone that no one even knows exists...”

“I don’t follow, my lord.”

“Since you haven’t responded to any of my summons before today, you hadn’t heard about my new Potions Master. He has altered many unalterable potions; creating permanent effects out of temporary ones, and making the impossible possible. Recently, we fed a modified form of the _Feminatis Masculinus_ _Potion_ to dear little Harry, here.”

Voldemort stepped closer, and patted Harry cheek with one scaly hand. Harry glared. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Draco, and the blond looked stricken for a second, before a mask of calm descended over his features. Harry could only be grateful that Voldemort had been looking at him, not Draco when it happened.

Though he wasn’t sure exactly what part of Voldemort’s speech had triggered it – it seemed to be when Voldemort said the name of the potion, which made Harry all the more frustrated that he couldn’t remember where he’d heard of it.

“Then, just before I called you, I had him fed a modified fertility potion. So you see, young Malfoy,” Voldemort continued blithely, turning back to face Draco. “Your job will be to impregnate Harry Potter with our very own hostage.” He chuckled. “When we release him after the child is born, he will have no choice but to work with us to ensure the child’s safety... and he won’t even be able to tell anyone; not even of the child’s existence – because he will know what will happen to his baby if he does.”

Draco bowed again. “I understand, my lord,” he murmured. He smiled coldly. “That is a most excellent plan. What are your intentions for after he has been released again, if I may ask?”

Voldemort answered him; something to do with Harry using his influence to further their cause, to get captured Death Eaters released, to prepare the way for the take-over of Voldemort’s forces. But Harry was barely able to listen; his mind was stuck on the horrible truth that had been revealed to him.

Voldemort had been turning him into a hermaphrodite. _That_ was the source of the horrible pain in his abdomen and between his legs; the feeling of _wrongness_. He had carefully schooled himself into avoiding any thought directed to those areas of himself for so long because of the pain that he hadn’t even been aware of the change. But he was aware of it now.

Voldemort meant to have him raped. He meant for Harry to get pregnant. He meant for Harry to be raped, impregnated, and then to take his child away from him to force him to work with the Death Eaters.

And Harry knew it would work.

Voldemort and Draco stood discussing his plans for a while, as Harry stood there, his mind a teeming mass of confused thought.

_Draco won’t do this._

Harry’s heart sank, because he realised that unless rescue came soon, Draco would die and some other Death Eater would step up. And _then_ Harry would be raped and impregnated and he would have lost _everything_. He could feel tears leaking from his petrified eyes.

“That is enough for now, however, young Malfoy,” said Voldemort silkily. “I will talk with you more in detail later. For now, I believe it is time you take your reward.” He gestured to Harry, and Draco dipped his head.

“Of course, my lord. It will be my pleasure.”

He turned to look at Harry then, and the coldness in his eyes made Harry flinch mentally, though he was still petrified.

“Well, well, Potter,” he drawled, smirking. “This has been a nasty shock for you, hasn’t it? Or should I say... _Harry?_ ”

There was some scattered snickering.

Voldemort waved his wand, and with three spells in quick succession had Harry unpetrified, chained to the table with his arms and legs spread wide, and his clothes vanished.

Panic set in then as Draco approached him, unfastening his robes. The cold look never left his eyes.

“Draco,” he whispered, as soon as Draco came close enough, looming over him. “Please.”

He didn’t even know what to ask for; what to think. His head was a mess of confused thoughts and fears and he couldn’t seem to stop shaking and crying.

“Please, Draco. Help me.”

He didn’t know how Draco was supposed to help him. He didn’t know what he expected Draco to do. All he knew was that he was more afraid of Draco now than he’d ever been of Voldemort.

Draco lifted Harry’s legs, and dipped his head, as if to get his bearings. Harry heard the barest whisper when Draco’s mouth descended near him.

_“I’m sorry.”_

“ _No!_ ” he cried, but Draco didn’t seem to hear him. He was touching Harry between his legs, in a place that hadn’t existed a month ago. The wrongness of it was so intense that Harry was nearly dizzy with it.

“No,” he repeated. “Draco, _no._ ”

Then it began.

* * *

 

Somewhere, Harry was aware of Voldemort and his Death Eaters jeering and laughing; taunting him. Somewhere, Harry wondered if he should care more about that than he did.

But his world had narrowed to Draco and himself. There was simply no room for anyone else.

Harry screamed. It hurt; it burned. He turned and twisted, trying to get away, but the chains and Draco’s hands held him in place. He begged Draco to stop even as Draco kept moving.

The pain was unlike anything Harry had ever felt before.

Physically, the sensations were foreign and unpleasant, they hurt quite a good deal – though not nearly as bad as Cruciatus.

But emotionally, the horror of being violated in such a way made him a gibbering wreck. The shame of being violated _publically_ even more so. And the thought that this was Draco; his beloved Draco doing this to him... he wondered dimly, in the back of his mind, if this was how it felt to go mad.

There was nothing else Voldemort could have done to break him quite so thoroughly.

Nothing Voldemort could have done himself.

Nothing he could have ordered any of his followers to do.

None except Draco.

Then it was over, though Harry was barely cognizant of this fact.

He was vaguely aware that Draco had moved away, and his chains had been released. He curled into a ball on the table, sobbing, trying to make himself as small as possible.

He barely registered when they hauled him to his feet and dragged him out, back to his cell.

He was barely conscious of crawling onto his cot, where he curled up again and pulled the blanket over himself. He shivered as he cried himself to sleep. Even behind his tightly shut eyelids, he could still see Draco hovering over him, his grey eyes cold as steel.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope this wasn't too traumatic for anyone. I avoided describing the rape in any details other than what Harry was feeling (primarily emotionally) to keep it minimized. 

I know some (all) of you hate me right now. This is what I have been planning all along, and I'm really sorry if you guys are upset by it. (Scratch that; I KNOW you're upset. Sorry.) 

This is integral to the rest of the story. I wouldn't really have a story without this. (At least, not much of one.) So yes, it is really necessary. 

I do intend to give this story a happy ending, but it's going to be dark on its way to getting there. Please bear with me. 

Thank you for reading. I love you guys!


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